Web of Treason
by lindahoyland
Summary: To save the tortured, captive, Aragorn, Faramir must forfeit his own honour. Can one do evil in the service of a greater good? And will both King and Steward survive an ordeal that tests their friendship as well as their fealty? MC Award Winner.
1. Growing Dissent

_These characters (with the exception of those of my own creation) are the property of the Tolkien Estate and New Line Cinema. This story has been written purely for pleasure and no profit has or will me made from it._

**Warning –Like "Shadow and Thought" and" Burden of Guilt", this story will be very dark with angst, torture, violence and injuries, so please only read if you enjoy this genre and are not disturbed by it.**

_A/N I generally follow book universe but see the faces of the film actors as I write, although I picture Faramir and Boromir as having dark hair and grey eyes like Tolkien described._

_This story is sequel to my other stories but especially "Burden of Guilt " also on this site. It is not essential to have read the previous stories, but they should be more enjoyable if read as a series, the latter chapters of both "Shadow and Thought" and "Burden of Guilt" being especially relevant._

_The main characters are Aragorn and Faramir. Arwen,Eowyn and the babies will also take part together with brief appearances by other Tolkien characters and some of my own._

_With grateful thanks to Raksha,Julia, Laerien for their unfailinghelp and support with this story. Also thank you to Anu Laire for beta-ing the early chapters.I am also grateful to all my friends at CJ and AA for their support. _

_The events take place a few weeks after "Burden of Guilt."_

**A Web of Treason**

**_He would plunge the dagger through Aragorn's heart and then though, much as he desired to die too, endeavour to escape and return to Arwen and submit to whatever death she decreed for him, once he had ensured that Eowyn and Elestelle were safe in Rohan and Eldarion out of the clutches of these monsters._**

**_He knew he should linger no longer, or his resolve would fail._**

**_Yet, he could not deal the fatal blow without a farewell kiss of blessing to one he loved as father, brother, friend, mentor and lord._**

**_Careful not to rouse Aragorn, Faramir knelt beside and murmured, "Farewell dear friend and noblest of Kings! I do this deed not out of hate but from the depths of the love that I bear you and hope beyond the circles of the world that you will know just how much I loved and admired you."_**

**_Choking back his tears of grief and horror at what he was about to do, he gently kissed the King's brow. He knew he would never see him again, not even beyond death, as surely he would be cursed to wander forever without rest like the oath breakers who betrayed Isildur. _**

**_Aragorn's brow was burning hot with fever. Faramir wavered, wondering if maybe the King was on the verge of dying swiftly and naturally from the Fever, before dismissing the thought .The blood and pus stained shirt he was wearing obviously hid many wounds, an infection from which was causing his fever, especially as his eyes and nose were not red and running, which was the main symptom of the infection ravaging Gondor. Wound fever was serious but victims often recovered and even if not, it took several days or longer to kill._**

**_Grasping the dagger firmly and trying to stop his hand shaking, he prepared to strike._**

**_"I am sorry!" he whispered, "so very sorry! Much rather would I pierce my own heart than yours!"_**

**_Chapter 23 _**

A Web of Treason

January,a few weeks earlier

It was an exceptionally cold winter's night and the men milled round the door waiting for the inn to open and the chance to sip a warming mug of ale, while huddled around a blazing fire.

The door opened but instead of admitting his customers, the innkeeper came out on to the lane.

"Sorry lads, the inn's closed." he told the waiting throng.

"We'll have to go to the next one then." one of the men said grumpily, "On a night like this too!"

"You'll find all the inns closed by order of the King," the innkeeper informed them," You'd be better off going home."

"What? Why?" The wave of anger was almost palpable." He can't do that!"

"Yes, he can and he has done, "the innkeeper replied, "Because of the fever I was told. Some hare brained notion about it being more catching in crowded places!"

"What nonsense!" The speaker was obviously a casualty of the recent war as he had only one leg and walked with a crutch, "I've seen many lands while I was in the army and anyone could tell you that fevers are caused by the influence of the moon. Why, even a child knows that!"

"Things were never like this in the Steward's day!" his companion, a fat man with a red face, remarked. "He had his faults did Lord Denethor but he'd have never closed the taverns!

"Why doesn't his son do something then?" the man with the crutch demanded, "He's the Steward now, Lord Faramir, isn't he?"

"He dare not." The red-faced man said gloomily, "I've heard the King beats him and even had him put in prison!"

"I thought that was Lord Denethor?" the man with the crutch said, sounding puzzled.

"No, he was the one who tried to burn him alive!" the red-faced man replied impatiently, " He would never have sent him to prison, though! Not his own son!"

The others joined in, each eagerly voicing their own opinions on the matter.

"Now be off with you!" the innkeeper shouted above the rising murmur of voices. "I'll hear naught against his majesty. He is providing me with enough to live on while my tavern is closed and he cured my wife of the fever!"

Still muttering, the crowd slowly dispersed into the frosty night.

The mood in the Council Chamber was grim as Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien read out a report, which reported no progress in controlling the spread of the fever. Mercifully, it was still confined to the city, and there were no reports of it having spread to the surrounding areas.

King Aragorn Elessar Telcontar rose to his feet and thanked his Steward. "I am hoping that new measures I have implemented will help to control the spread of the epidemic," he announced, "As from yesterday, I have ordered the closure of the taverns, indoor markets and all other crowded assemblies.

Fontos, Lord of Lossarnach, rose to his feet. "My Lord King, I fear that by so doing you will have a rebellion on your hands!"

"That is a lesser risk than half the populace stricken with fever," Aragorn said calmly. "I am recompensing all those who will have their livelihoods threatened as result."

"And what of us?" Lord Lamedon sprang to his feet, bristling with anger. "Many of the inns are owned by the nobility who rent them to the tavern keepers and who give us a share of their profits!"

"They might starve, my lord, though you most certainly would not!" Aragorn retorted as starvation looked to be the least likely cause of death for the portly noble.

"I must protest, Sire!" Lord Lebennin said angrily, "All the legislation you have passed favours the poor! We are now forced to allow them to glean in our fields and gather firewood from our forests while they shoot our rabbits to stuff their bellies with!"

"And the tax you have levied to pay for the City reconstruction is most unfair!" the Lord of Ringlo Vale added. " Lord Denethor would never have done such a thing!"

"You must be in dire straits indeed then, my lord!" commented the Prince of Dol Amroth wryly, "It is but a small percentage of your vast revenues!"

" I will not be a King who lets my people starve while the nobles grow fat off the land." Aragorn said coldly and then sat down again. To those who knew him, he looked drawn and weary. "It is an exceptionally hard winter this year and the poor are suffering because of it."

"It was said in olden times that if plague and famine fell upon the land it was because of some fault in the king!" Lord Lamedon announced.

Aragorn's eyes flashed dangerously, " I hope you do not mean what I think you do, my lord, or you come close to speaking treason!"

" I was merely recalling the old lore, Sire. I did not say there was any truth in it, " Lord Lamedon said smoothly, looking at the King then quickly lowering his eyes, unable to meet the flint like gaze.

"Is there any other business before the Council is dismissed?" Faramir asked.

"I have news of grave import to all." Lord Lamedon swept to his feet and paused for dramatic effect. "The Steward's heir has been found!"

"I was not aware that Lady Elestelle was lost." Faramir said dryly.

"I meant Lord _Boromir's_ heir. " Lord Lamedon announced, "As he was the elder son, his heir takes precedence. The late Lord Boromir's widow, Lady Hanna and her daughter Lady Elbeth are under my protection. They came to me in dire need and asked for my help."

Aragorn and Faramir shot started glances at each other at this unexpected turn of events.

"My nephew had an heir?" the Prince of Dol Amroth exclaimed in wonder. "But why should she appeal to you for protection and not his majesty?"

"King Elessar does not have a good record with his Stewards. Or maybe you have forgotten that Lord Denethor committed suicide on the day his majesty arrived while his successor, Lord Faramir was unjustly beaten and imprisoned but a few months past? Our Lord King did not even punish the miscreants with the full weight of the law!" Lord Lossarnach remarked acidly.

"That is most unfair, I must protest!" the Prince of Dol Amroth interjected.

Aragorn glared and looked uncomfortablewhile Faramir was about to open his mouth to protest but Lord Lamedon continued before either of them regained their composure.

"I see that these tidings disturb you, my lords" Lord Lamedon continued, "I thought they might ,as she had a most tragic story to tell me of grave injustice done to her and her daughter. Most gravely, it concerned you, my Lord Elessar! Lady Hanna claims that you took her child from her and had her locked away in the lunatic asylum!"

A collective murmur of shock echoed round the Council Chamber.

" I had the lady confined there after she tried to kill me and my Steward." Aragorn said icily, "As for her child, she appeared to be illegitimate and my Steward and I found a good woman and her husband to care for her .We have paid for her upkeep until her mother escaped from the asylum and vanished with her."

"Why was she not tried for treason if she attacked you, sire?" Lord Lebennin enquired.

"Because the poor woman had obviously lost her wits and I had no desire to see her executed." Aragorn replied.

"Or maybe there was another reason?" Lord Lamedon handed a document to Aragorn with a flourish.

Aragorn studied it before silently handing it to Faramir. It was certificate of marriage.

"I beg to differ, sire." Lord Lamedon continued, "Lady Hanna appears as sane as you or I. You wanted her silenced, as it was well known that Lord Boromir had no wish for the return of a King from the North any more than Lord Denethor did."

"Mind your words, my lord, for I may not be as lenient with you, as I was with Hanna!" Aragorn was white with fury.

"His Majesty saved Elbeth's life. That is not the action of a man who considered her a threat. As for myself, I was mindful of protecting my late brother's reputation as I suspected Elbeth might be his child born outside wedlock. Hanna was a serving maid, hardly a suitable bride for the heir to the Stewardship as my poor brother then was." Faramir looked even more furious than the King, were that possible.

" My apologies, it not my desire to offend your most esteemed majesty. I spoke only out of my desire to protect this most unfortunate widow and her child, " Lord Lamedon said contritely." The marriage certificate proves that Lady Elbeth is Lord Boromir's legitimate heir.Lady Hanna told me that Lord Boromir was a frequent guest of Lord Duilin of Morthond and they met at his Hunting Lodge and fell in love. One night after the men had been drinking, overcome with desire, Lord Boromir wished to lie with her and consummate the union, but the lady much as she loved him ,was mindful of her virtue and refused him, saying she would lie with no man out of wedlock. Lord Boromir promptly said he would marry her and did so then and there in front of witnesses."

"I could not imagine my brother acting thus." Faramir said coldly, "Both witnesses, Forlong of Lossarnach and Duilin of Morthond are conveniently dead. Therefore, there is no way of proving this marriage. Both fell in the war you well know."

"As did many good men." Devorin, Lord of Ringlo Vale commented sadly.

"I have a suggestion," the Lord of Lebennin announced. "You have a son, King Elessar, Lord Boromir left a daughter. If they were to marry, the Houses of Hurin and Telcontar would be united and Lord Boromir's daughter would then receive the honour due to her."

TBC


	2. Perchance to Dream

_These Characters are the property of the Estate of J. R. R Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story has been written for pleasure and no profit has or will be made from it._

**To sleep, perchance to dream - Shakespeare ,Hamlet.3.1**

"Surely you jest, my lords?" Aragorn replied, "Prince Eldarion is not yet six months old and Lady Elbeth is still but a child! The suggestion of their marriage is quite absurd."

"Where are Prince Eldarion and the Queen by the way?" Lord Lossarnach enquired, "They have not been seen in public for weeks now!"

A murmur of assent echoed round the chamber.

"I am not exposing my wife and heir to the dangers of the fever." Aragorn answered evasively, "You may rest assured my lords that they are safe and well."

"To marry Prince Eldarion to Lady Elbeth would secure the future of the Royal Line by restoring the House of Hurin to a station worthy of their lineage," Lord Lamedon persisted.

Faramir frowned, wondering why the Council would recognise succession through female lines when it suited them, such as when a long ago Steward had died childless and they appointed his sister's grandson to succeed him .Yet Arvedui's claim to the throne had been rejected even though he was married to King Ondoher's sole surviving heir! He concluded it was best to remain silent, lest these impudent lords start to next question Aragorn's legitimacy to rule!

"The idea is outrageous, to marry children to each other! Neither my wife nor myself would ever permit such a marriage!" Aragorn protested. He was beginning to lose patience.

"Infant marriages are not unheard of," said Devorin, Lord of Ringlo Vale, "Consider how it would please the people, Your Majesty .An heir from such a union would actually be of Gondor! And you my Lord Steward, would you not see your brother's memory honoured?"

" Naturally I would have Boromir's child treated with all due respect." said Faramir, "It gladdens my heart she is safe and well but…"

"Such a marriage is completely out of the question!" Aragorn interrupted, finally erupting in anger. "It is not an easy task being King, so my son should at least choose his own Queen to stand beside him to be his helpmeet. Would you, my Lord Lossarnach, have your infant son locked in a loveless marriage? Would you my Lords Devorin, Lebennin and Lamedon see your grandchildren thus bound? I would never countenance a union for my son with a girl from a family of such instability either! I will see the child is well provided for and treated with due respect, but that is all she is entitled to. As for Hanna, she must return to the asylum. That is my final word on the subject."

Faramir flushed with anger. "My father lost his wits in the service of Gondor!" he blazed, "Does your Majesty then consider me unstable too?"

"Your mother was of good stock as the Prince of Dol Amroth proves." Aragorn replied, "I will have no more talk of this matter. The Council is dismissed."

"But, sire, will you not at least consider the matter? " Lord Lossarnach ventured to suggest.

Aragorn rose to his feet, his hand gripping the hilt of Anduril in silent warning. "I have told you my decision and I never wish to hear this matter raised again!" he roared. "You do not fool me, my lords! I know full well that you resent the extra burden of taxation to help the poor survive the winter but that you should stoop so low as to attempt to use my infant son as your tool beggars belief! Now be gone!"

One by one, the lords filed out of the Council Chamber until only Aragorn and Faramir remained.

Grey with weariness, Aragorn slumped in his seat now that there was none save his Steward to see him.

Faramir anxiously hastened to his lord's side.

"You were up most of the night again, tending the sick." he chided, "You cannot go on like this! You will damage your health."

" I am so sorry, Faramir I did not mean to hurt your feelings earlier." Aragorn whispered, all too aware that his Steward was still smarting from the earlier exchange. "I am just so weary today and the lords were past bearing in their conduct!"

."You should arrest them for their insolence." Faramir said sternly. "My father would not have hesitated. If only Angbor, the old Lord Lamedon were still alive and Forlong of Lossarnach. Alas, that the flower of Gondor's nobility were lost in the war!"

"They will pay for their scheming, once this epidemic is over and I can concentrate on something other than healing the sick. I shall insist then that Elbeth is removed from the clutches of that snake!" Aragorn told him. "Please do not hold your anger against me. I did not for a moment mean that _you _were unstable, only that Hanna's child could be. More than that Eldarion needs to choose a bride he knows will love and support him as Arwen does me. However, I will tell you this, should it come to pass that he and _your _daughter were to love each other, they would have my blessing! I would be most happy if our children were to wed."

Faramir bent over to kiss his King on the brow in token of reconciliation.

"You do me great honour!" he said, overwhelmed by emotion, "I could never be angry with you for long, mellon nin."

" I am truly blessed to have both you as my Steward and Arwen as my Queen." Aragorn mused, thinking of the first time he had met Faramir and been immediately hailed as King by him. He had sensed even then that they were kindred souls. "The Valar smiled on me to grant me a Steward who has become the brother of my soul to ease my burden as King."

"No less than they blessed me by replacing my father with you as my liege lord!" Faramir whispered, as he helped Aragorn rise to his feet, "Come my friend, you need to rest and eat and then the heavy burdens you bear will seem less onerous.

Taking his Steward's proffered arm, Aragorn made his way out of the Council Chamber. Once they were in public view, he straightened up and walked tall and noble as ever so that none might guess his weariness.

Faramir had been one of the first to be stricken with the fever, perhaps because he was still regaining his strength after his ordeal in prison. Aragorn devotedly nursed his Steward back to health and this time he made a swift recovery, the only sign now that he had ever suffered from it, being a slight cough in the early mornings. He was now working harder than ever, dealing with almost all the State paperwork, so that Aragorn would have more time to tend the sick. The King brushed aside fears for his own danger of infection as he remembered catching this kind of fever while he was in the North and knew it very rarely infected the same person twice.

The fever had begun a few days after the execution of Mahrod, who was responsible for Faramir's severe injuries when imprisoned. Crowds had flocked to see him hanged, amongst them, his wife Alis and her child. Alis and several others from the villages within walking distance of Minas Tirith were the first to fall ill. More and more cases were reported in the City, until the Houses of Healing could hardly cope with all the sick and dying.

This fever was especially unpleasant causing fevers and chills, sneezing, loss of appetite, a severe cough and sometimes breathing difficulties especially for the very young and very old, which all too often proved fatal.

Faramir and Eowyn had moved to their new home in Ithilien the week before Faramir fell ill and he had sent a message that she should remain there with Elestelle until the danger of infection had passed. Aragorn and Arwen also decided that Arwen and Eldarion should stay with Eowyn while the epidemic raged, for while Arwen as one of the Eldar was immune to such dangers, Eldarion was not and the heir to the throne was far too precious to be put at risk. Much as Aragorn and Arwen hated to be apart, as always, they considered the greater good and the welfare of their child before any personal feelings.

Aragorn decided to keep the Queen's location secret to protect her from visitors who might carry the infection to his son and also to prevent panic if it were widely known that the situation was bad enough to warrant sending the Queen and the heir to safety. So far, no cases of the fever had been reported beyond Minas Tirith and the outlying villages and Aragorn was desperately trying to keep it from spreading throughout Gondor.

Before she left, taking with her many loving messages from Faramir to Eowyn and a promise to look after her, Arwen had asked Faramir to share Aragorn's room and take care of him lest he overtax himself and neglect his own health as he was insisting on daily using his healing gifts helping care for the sick in the Houses of Healing.

The Queen had confided to him, that after so many years in the wilds, Aragorn found it difficult to sleep alone within the stone walls of the Citadel and would have vastly preferred to be under a hedge with the stars overhead for company.

Although comfortable enough in his own rooms, Faramir was happy to oblige as he enjoyed the companionship of his friend and was willing to endure his snoring while they shared Aragorn's room, where he had cared for his Steward only a few months before.

To begin with, Faramir had found the task allocated to him far from arduous as both men had simple tastes, both preferring to disperse with a valet unless required to wear elaborate robes for state occasions, both were sound sleepers and both enjoyed each other's company.

Most of the time, he was hardly aware of the King's presence at all. When Faramir went to sleep, Aragorn would still be at the Houses of Healing and often he would have left again at dawn the next day.

However, as the weeks went by and the fever raged unabated, Aragorn became increasingly exhausted and withdrawn. Faramir's companionship became his main source of support and he was grateful to Arwen for suggesting he avail himself of the comfort of having his friend at his side while she could not be.

One morning Faramir had awoken to find the King still wearing his boots, having fallen asleep on top of the covers of the vast bed, too exhausted to undress, eat, or drink.

TBC

_A/N_

_A very big thank you to everyone who has reviewed chapter one. I was thrilled and awed at your response and would like to welcome new readers and express my delight at the return of my old ones._

_Arwen and Eowyn will indeed play a part in this story._

_Hanna and Elbeth's story is told in the last ten chapters of 'Shadow and Thought'._

_I am indeed, trying to do things a little differently to try prevent my stories from becoming boring.The angst begins in the next chapter._


	3. So much to be consoled as to console

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**O Master, grant that I may never seek  
So much to be consoled as to console,  
To be understood as to understand,  
To be loved as to love with all my soul –**

**Prayer of Saint Francis**

After that night, Faramir had either stayed awake or dozed only lightly until Aragorn returned so that he could ensure that he was properly cared for. The Steward now insisted that a supply of the restorative Elven cordial, miruvor was always kept in the room.

The servants were ordered to keep supply of nourishing broth and warm water for washing constantly at hand, as well as laying out a nightshirt and clean underwear for their Sovereign to change into to sleep.

Sometimes, Aragorn would awaken from a nightmare in a state of obvious distress, recalling the faces of children he could not save. Faramir would soothe his lord as best he could, telling him that no one could have done more..

Last night had been especially hard, as Aragorn had returned in the small hours totally exhausted and distressed over the death of a baby boy about Eldarion's age. He had arrived just two or three minutes before the infant had breathed his last in his distraught mother's arms.

"He looked so like my son and yet I could not save him!" the King sighed, slumping across the vast bed.

"You will feel better with food and rest," Faramir soothed, "You cannot save everyone, alas. Think of the hundreds you _have_ cured these past weeks!"

" I cannot eat!" Aragorn protested, " Let me be!"

"Come on now!" said Faramir, "You need to keep your strength up, you are losing weight, I can see it! You must eat or I shall spoon feed you!"

"You sound just like Eowyn!" Aragorn replied, managing a weak smile.

Faramir had had to coax him to eat him the nourishing broth of venison and vegetables, which the kitchens had sent up.

Aragorn just lay there completely drained, not even protesting when Faramir unlaced his boots and outer tunic.

"Come on," he coaxed, "I promised your lady that I would not let you fall asleep without first bathing and changing into your nightshirt. She was most insistent that you should not revert to your ranger ways!"

Faramir had hoped that mentioning the Queen would cheer his lord but to no avail.

"I am so weary," Aragorn whispered. He kicked off his boots but made no move to finish undressing. Instead, he sat slumped on the bed with his face buried in his hands.

Faramir impulsively reached out and drew his friend close against his shoulder, knowing that he was in need of comfort but would never ask for any. Aragorn considered that he should always be the one to offer solace whenever it was needed and never seek to ask for any in return.

Last night though, he had welcomed Faramir's comforting arm.

"I failed!" Aragorn murmured. "It could have been my son lying there dying, I should have tried harder and I…" Completely exhausted, he could say no more.

" I know you to be the noblest of men who does your best and cares for your people deeply, sometimes so much so that you neglect yourself .You miss Arwen and your child as I miss mine, but you were unselfish enough to send them out of danger. That you tried to save that baby is proof enough of just how much you care! You cannot, must not risk yourself, as all your people need you!" Faramir told him, all the while rubbing soothing circles across Aragorn's back, wishing as he did so that he had his healing powers. Nevertheless, his touch seemed to soothe his friend .

"What would I do without you?" Aragorn mused, starting to relax due to his friend's ministrations "If you had not already had the fever I should have had to send you away too and you are such a solace to me! I have neglected you though, as I cannot remember when I last treated your arm."

" I am glad that I had it then. Not that you would have persuaded me to go as I am not the heir and I am needed here!" Faramir replied, raising a glass of the restorative cordial miruvor to the King's lips. "As for my arm, it is better. I only continued with the treatments as I enjoyed the Elven massage!"

"You would be next in line." Aragorn reminded, smiling faintly at Faramir's confession, although he knew the truth already.

"Then I hope you live a very long time and have many more children. A few weeks as ruling Steward were quite enough for me." Faramir said firmly.

He had then sat silently with his arm still around his friend's shoulders. Aragorn laid his head against his Steward's, allowing their thoughts to mingle. Their similar Numenorean lineage and strong friendship tended to enhance the mental gifts they both possessed. Both found their Thought Bond a great source of comfort as by sharing thoughts they could strengthen each other. The strong mental connection they shared had grown even closer during these weeks spent together

What had begun as a desperate final attempt of Aragorn's to save Faramir's life, had now become mutually beneficial and the more they shared thoughts, the deeper the bond became. Sometimes Faramir could even sense Aragorn's thoughts when he was in another room, or even another part of the City. He had more than once surprised the King by meeting him, clutching the very document he was returning to collect.

Faramir could clearly sense the sorrow and despondency that Aragorn felt, while Aragorn could sense the genuine compassion and concern emanating from Faramir. It was deeply comforting to be so close to another in thought, that was until Faramir started to sense some sort of danger surrounding the King, which he tried to dismiss as no more than his concern over his despondent mood.

"I sense such darkness!" Aragorn sighed, uncertain whether the visions came from his own mind or Faramir's.

"Try to rest. I am here beside you. You should go out into the countryside for a few days to refresh yourself, maybe visit Arwen and Eldarion?" Faramir counselled, smoothing back the mane of unruly dark hair, while he tried to contain his own sense of foreboding. He tried to tell himself that it was just the shadow of the epidemic hanging over the City. This winter had been the coldest and harshest he could ever remember, as Gondorian winters were usually mild.

"Maybe I will ride outside the City gates for a while tomorrow. I dare not go near my wife and child lest I carry the contagion on my clothing. I miss them so much though!"

"I miss Eowyn and Elestelle too. She was just starting to smile at me when they said goodbye!" Faramir sighed, while all the time trying to share encouraging thoughts with Aragorn. The King had driven himself relentlessly for weeks now, spending hours every day in draining healing sessions.

Even one of his Numenorean lineage did not have unlimited reserves of energy. He tried to help him by taking on double his share of paperwork, poring for hours over State documents until his head ached.

He knew though from personal experience that every time Aragorn gave of himself when healing, it left him weakened and drained. Such a gift was never meant to be used day after day without rest. Maybe that was what was alarming him so, a terrible fear that Aragorn would go too far in trying to help others, to the extent of sacrificing his own life. Faramir shuddered, recalling how near the King had come to death in saving his life but a few months ago.

"I would only go that far to save you, Arwen or my son," Aragorn reassured him, reading his thoughts.

"A king's life is worth more than a steward's!" Faramir chided gently, though Aragorn's goodness never failed to overwhelm him.

"A loyal friend's life is beyond all measure!"Aragorn replied.

"You have my loyalty without needing to take such risks!" the Steward protested.

"I know and that makes any risk worthwhile!" Aragorn replied, "If only the rest of my Council were as loyal as you!"

"They dislike change but I am certain they will come to love and respect you in time," Faramir replied, "They feared my father and that guaranteed their obedience, though at what cost I know not .Now we should both try to rest, it will be dawn soon!"

He blew out the candle and lay back against the pillows, his hand still resting on Aragorn's shoulder.

Despite his words, he forced himself to stay awake until he could hear Aragorn snoring. For once, the sound did not annoy him.

Faramir had once thought Aragorn invulnerable, though their ordeal at the Hunting Lodge had shown him that he was not. It pained him to see such a strong man so drained by total exhaustion, though it was doubtful that any but Faramir would be aware of it.

The next morning as usual, Aragorn had attended the Council Meeting, the fact his features were grey with weariness the only sign that anything was amiss as he appeared to be his kingly, confident self.

Faramir had insisted that the King rest afterwards but after only a few hours, the Warden had summoned him again to help the severely ill in the Houses of Healing.

At least the King's spirits were now much restored and he had parted from Faramir with a smile on his face, determined that today he would save the lives of some of his people.

That night, Faramir prepared for bed as usual, shedding his formal clothing in favour of a linen nightshirt and drawers, though he was determined to stay awake though for Aragorn had not yet returned.

The events of the day ran through his mind while he debated how best the insolent lords could be disciplined. They were cunning enough, unfortunately, to stop short of speaking outright treason but it was outrageous that any should dare suggest marrying Eldarion to Elbeth. How he wished that he had adopted his niece when he had had the chance. On that thought, the rigours of the day preceded by a near sleepless night overcame him and he knew no more.

His slumber was restless and filled with dark dreams. Eventually he awoke just before dawn, chiding himself angrily for sleeping when he should be ensuring the King had was provided with food and drink and what comfort he could offer.

To his alarm, when he glanced across to his side of the bed, Aragorn was not there. He immediately checked the dressing room, thinking that rather than risk disturbing his Steward, he had slept there, but the room was empty.

Immediately, he sent a message to Tarostar, the new Warden of the Houses of Healing, only for the Healer to reply that Aragorn had left at about two o'clock in the morning after a prolonged and successful battle to save the life of a young brother and sister.

Faramir was by now greatly alarmed, fearing that Aragorn had collapsed somewhere from exhaustion .The King had refused his Steward's plea to take a guard with him, saying he was perfectly safe in his own city and it was unreasonable to expect the guard to wait around for him, maybe all night long, when he could be better employed elsewhere.

Immediately Faramir sent out the guard to carry out a through search of the City but the King was nowhere to be found.

After spending hours spent organising the Search, he summoned the Council to inform them of Aragorn's disappearance as power automatically reverted to the Steward at such times. He told them that the King had been called away, not wanting to embarrass Aragorn in case he was just following his suggestion and spending a few hours away from the City.

He watched the faces of the lords carefully when he made the announcement, but apart from a look of concern flitting across his uncle's face, they remained impassive.

Faramir spent the evening signing a pile of official documents before going to bed, convinced he would be unable to sleep, as he was so anxious for his lord's safety.

Instead, he immediately fell into an exhausted slumber, where he dreamed vividly of Aragorn calling out to him for help.

He sat up, drenched in a cold sweat and wincing at the pain in his back, which had not hurt so much since one of the numerous times he had been flogged.

This was most strange, as thanks to the Elven treatments that Aragorn had persuaded him to undergo, his stripes were completely healed, with not even any painful scar tissue to remind him of what he had endured in the past.

Puzzled, he pulled down his nightshirt and felt the painful area carefully only to discover his skin was smooth and unblemished and within minutes, the pain had gone.

Faramir found himself reaching for the miruvor and taking a large gulp. He mentally chided himself for reverting to his old fears, the moment that Aragorn was not there to protect him. Eventually he fell asleep again, hoping that the dawn would bring some tidings of his friend.

TBC

Thank you for your kind reviews. Each and every one is greatly appreciated.

_The fever is indeed; a type of flu, so called as in olden days was believed to be caused by the influence of the stars and planets._

_Apologies for reloading this, but I realised that I had missed a few crucial details. With thanks to Raksha for her help._


	4. The Foreboding of Evil

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Aeschylus**** (525–456 B.C.)**

**I would far rather be ignorant than wise in the foreboding of evil.**

**Warning – This chapter contains material, which may distress sensitive readers.**

When Faramir awoke, his back felt more stiff and painful than ever, yet that was as nothing compared to how distraught and helpless he felt.

Aragorn was missing and most likely in grave danger. He should have been able to prevent it. Why had he not been more insistent about Aragorn being accompanied by a guard? If he had refused to listen, he could always have ordered one to follow him unobserved, difficult though that would have been with a former ranger.

He felt so angry with himself for not using all the authority Aragorn had given to him. Maybe he should have insisted that Aragorn rest, as he had been so near to collapse? Yet the King had seemed much restored in health and spirits by the time he had left for the Houses of Healing again.

With iron self control Faramir insisted the search continue while he dealt with Government business. He yearned to search every nook and cranny himself, but instead ordered the guards to enquire at every house on the route to the Houses of Healing, search every level of the City, paying especial attention to deserted buildings and alleyways and to leave no stone unturned in the hunt to find Aragorn.

His task was made all the harder by the fever epidemic and the need not to cause a panic that might cause people to congregate together and spread the contagion. With this in mind, the guards were ordered to be extremely careful in their dealings with the populace and tell them as little as possible.

Several days passed but still there was no sign of the King, who appeared to have vanished from the face of Arda, though he continued to haunt Faramir's dreams nightly.

The pain in the Steward's back kept worsening and then abating. He found himself more than once feeling for stripes the were not there and rubbing Aragorn's salves on perfectly healthy skin, though they failed to work their magic without the King's hands to apply them.

He actually began to feel grateful that he was so accustomed to pain that it hindered him very little in dealing with daily tasks.

The Steward knew that Arwen should be told of her husband's disappearance yet still he hesitated. Aragorn had forbidden anyone to go near her and Eldarion while there was still danger of infection and would not take kindly to having his order disobeyed, an order Faramir respected even more as it also concerned Eowyn and Elestelle's safety.

Although he, like Aragorn himself, posed no threat of infection, he would not be expected to travel without an escort. Aragorn had also told him that infections could be carried on clothing, so he was unwilling to take so a risk unless it was essential.

Also given the strong mental bond between himself and Aragorn, he felt certain that if Aragorn were dead, he would know immediately as he had been told it would be like losing part of his own soul.

He still held the hope too, that Aragorn would be found safe and well and had merely impulsively gone to recuperate in the wilds for a few days, or maybe even visit Arwen and Eldarion as he was missing them so much. He could after all, change his clothing before seeing them to minimise risk of infection.

Faramir tried to hold fast to the hope that maybe as the King was so near to breaking point; he had just gone away for a few days of rest. It was very strange he had not told Faramir of his plan, though and most worryingly of all, Roheryn was still in his stable, though of course, Aragorn might have taken another, less easily recognised horse, if he had wanted to ride out incognito. No horses of any description had been reported missing though, though it was well nigh impossible to account for every horse wintering in the fields outside the City.

The Council were becoming restless and demanding explanations for the King's absence, explanations that Faramir was unable to provide them with.

If the servants' chatter relayed by his secretary, were to be relied upon, it seemed that all manner of rumours were sweeping the City, that the King had abandoned them all to go and live with the Elves, he had gone hunting, the Dark Lord had returned and kidnapped him, or that he had grown weary of Gondor and returned north whence he came.

Sternly, Faramir bade them desist from such rumours and slander, only wishing that he had some truthful explanation to offer in their stead.

On the fifth day, Faramir was trying to work in his study. He was now finding it harder to concentrate with every day that passed since Aragorn's disappearance. It was only now that he was no longer there, that he realised quite how much Aragorn's presence had lightened each and every day and made the workload so much easier to bear. It was as if the sun had disappeared behind a permanent cloud, leaving only grey gloom in its wake.

He was disturbed by a knock on the door.

"Enter!" he called, expecting it to be his secretary with more documents for him to sign.

Instead, it was one of the apprentice healers from the Houses.

"The Warden requests your presence at the Houses immediately, my Lord Steward!" the young man said.

"Did he say why?" Faramir's heart was in his mouth. Did this mean Aragorn had been found but that he was injured? He prayed desperately that it was nothing too serious.

"He did not say, my lord. Only that it is imperative that you come at once."

A cold feeling of dread assailed the Steward. If Aragorn had been found with some minor injury, Tarostar would most surely say so. Maybe it was nothing to do with Aragorn at all but merely some fresh news of the progress of the fever epidemic?

Faramir pulled on his cloak; lingering for an instant to clasp the fastening brooch, that Aragorn had given him only a few weeks before. It featured the entwined arms of their houses to signify their close friendship and Faramir prized it as amongst the dearest of his possessions. Since the King's disappearance, he had clung to it like a talisman to connect him with his lord.

The journey although short, seemed to Faramir one of the longest he had ever taken.

A grim faced Tarostar greeted him together with an uncharacteristically silent Ioreth.

The expressions on their faces almost made speech superfluous.

"This is a sad day for us all, my lord," a red eyed Tarostar told Faramir,"A farmer whose lands adjoin the Anduin was mending his fences this morning and discovered a body floating in the river. He called for the guard who brought it here. From the general appearance, clothing and jewellery. There seems to be little doubt that it is King Elessar's, though we need you, my lord, to make a formal identification."

Faramir felt as if a dagger made of ice had been plunged through his heart. Only the supreme self-control that he had learned from his father prevented him from swooning.

Tarostar placed a comforting hand on his arm. "I know this must be distressing for you, my lord," he said, "It is for me too and I did not have the privilege of knowing him as well as you did. Though I can say, not only was he a good King, but the greatest and most compassionate Healer I have ever known."

"Take me to him, please." Faramir's tone was expressionless. He felt numb and was hardly aware of where Tarostar was leading him. In the background, he could hear Ioreth weeping

The Healer led him to a room at the back of the Houses, well away from where patients were treated. It was sparsely furnished apart from a chair and a table on which reposed a sheet covered object.

The room was liberally scented with herbs, but they did little to disguise the overwhelming stench of decomposition.

Tarostar led the unresisting Faramir over to the table and hesitated for a moment, his hand on the sheet.

Faramir nodded, unable to trust himself to speak.

The healer slowly pulled back the sheet to reveal the bloated and disfigured corpse. As was common for copses, which had lain in the water, the head was battered almost beyond recognition, but the strands of matted and tangled hair were black streaked with silver just like Aragorn's as was the size and shape of the body.

The clothes were unmistakably those Aragorn was wearing when he disappeared, one of the tunics he favoured, embroidered with the white tree, black breeches and fine leather boots. The Ring of Barahir adorned one bloated finger, as did the Elven pledge ring, identical to one Faramir wore to mark his true union with Eowyn.

The stench in the room had become well nigh unbearable and Faramir felt increasingly faint as he looked down at the hideous sight.

Although he had seen many disfigured corpses during his time as a soldier, this was his King and more than that; his best friend who was also as dear as the brother he had lost, and the loving father he had never been blessed with. How could he have died like some common vagrant to be fished from the river? It was too much to bear.

Overwhelmed by grief, Faramir found himself struggling to breathe. His legs went from under him and everything went black as he sank to the ground.

TBC

_I beg of my readers not to give up on this story after this chapter. It is far from over._

_A big thank you for all your kind and greatly appreciated reviews. It is wonderful to see the return of faithful readers and some new ones too. I am honoured that you should all choose to read my story._


	5. All my Life's Bliss

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**No other Sun has lightened up my heaven;  
No other star has ever shone for me:  
All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given -  
All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee. - Emily Bronte**

"Easy, my lord, lie still!"

Faramir slowly opened his eyes to find Tarostar bending over him. He was lying on a bed and the lacings on his tunic and shirt had been loosened. For a brief instant, he felt confused.

Where was Aragorn? The King had tended him every time he was ill during the past three years. Then he remembered. The King was dead, never again would he see his compassionate grey eyes, feel his healing touch or spend long hours with him,deep in conversation or companionable silence.

The one who had been father, brother, friend, healer, mentor and King to him was no more. Faramir choked back a sob and struggled to maintain his composure in front of Tarostar. Were Aragorn here, he would have wept unashamedly but Aragorn was no more.

However could he survive without him? Surely too, the Queen would most likely die of grief? Arwen would have to be told that her beloved husband was dead and Faramir as Steward would have to be the one to tell her. Or maybe she already knew ?

His head swam alarmingly. He wished desperately that Eowyn were here. She would understand how he was feeling, as she had loved the King too.

He forced himself to sit up, propping himself on his elbows. Tarostar steadied him and held a cup of water to his lips.

"Alas for Gondor, her Hope is lost!" Faramir said bleakly. His iron composure belied his inner grief.

"He was a great man and will be much missed." Tarostar said quietly. He was aware, unlike many, of how deep the friendship between the King and Steward had been, having seen the King's anguish when Faramir was near death a few months before.

"I must go and inform the Queen." Faramir struggled to rise from the bed and became fully aware of his surroundings for the first time. This was the very room where Aragorn had revived him from the Black Breath. Hardly surprising, as it was the best room, set aside for those of high birth when they were unwell.

Tarostar shook his head; "You are in no fit state to go anywhere today, Lord Faramir, especially as the Queen does not appear to be in the City."

"She is at my home with Lady Eowyn," Faramir told him.

"Travelling so far is out the question, my lord!" Tarostar told him firmly, "You could not undertake such a journey after sustaining so great a shock. You need to rest. Would you prefer to stay here or return to your own apartments?"

Just then, a servant tapped on the door before entering He was bearing a steaming mug in his hand.

Tarostar took it from him, thanked him and dismissed him.

He then held the cup to Faramir's lips urging the Steward to sip the hot, sweet tea inside. He felt stronger once he had drained it, but there was no herb on Arda that could ease the grief in his heart.

"How did the King die?" he asked Tarostar, "I assume he fell in the river somehow and drowned? Would he have suffered?"

"I fear, I cannot tell you that yet, Lord Faramir," Tarostar replied, "Dead bodies can often reveal very little, I fear, especially given the condition of the King's. It will even be difficult to embalm, given the condition it is in and cannot be put on display for a lying in state I fear."

"The ceremonies will have to wait." Faramir said firmly, "Aragorn does not, I mean did not want any public gatherings for fear of spreading the fever. I must obey his wishes and I am sure the Queen will agree. I must inform the Council but shall make no public announcement until the fever epidemic has waned."

Tarostar nodded his approval, for had the decision been his to make, he would have made the same choices.

Faramir swung his legs off the bed and rather unsteadily rose to his feet.

"Will you rest in your apartments, my lord?" Tarostar asked.

"The Council must be informed and then I will take your advice," Faramir replied, brushing aside all the Chief Warden's objections and offers to accompany him.

The Steward summoned those of Council who could easily be found, and informed them of the King's death a calm manner, firmly resisting calls for an immediate public announcement followed by a state funeral.

Unable to trust himself to continue to maintain his composure at present, he curtly dismissed the Councillors after what must have been one of the shortest meetings in Gondor's long history.

Desperate to be alone, he then made his way back to the privacy of the room he had shared with Aragorn over the last few weeks.

He supposed he should have returned to his own apartments, but his rooms were cold ,no fires having been lit there over the past few weeks. Also, his personal possessions were all in the King's room and he felt too drained to trouble with organising their removal.

Fanciful though it might be, Faramir could still sense Aragorn's presence here and wanted to experience it while it yet lingered.

Alone at last, he threw himself on the bed and finally gave way to his grief, much as he had three years ago, when he had finally wept for his father and brother. Only this time, there were no comforting arms around him. How ashamed he had been then at mistaking Aragorn for his uncle and weeping in his arms! Now he would give the whole world to have him beside him again, if only for a brief moment to say a last farewell.

Aragorn had died long before his rightful time, alone with none even to bestow a farewell kiss of blessing, as the King had done for Boromir. Faramir found this last thought too much to bear and cried like a wounded animal, burying his face in the pillow so that the servants would not hear his raw anguish over the loss of one he loved so dearly.

He had no idea how much time elapsed as he was too distraught to notice the gathering darkness outside. When a servant knocked to ask if they should light the candles, he bade them go away.

Eventually worn out by grief, he fell into an uneasy sleep and again dreamed of the King. The dream was more disturbing this time as he could fancy he saw Aragorn's face more clearly and this time it was contorted with agony with bruises disfiguring the noble features.

He stared in horror; only for that vision to be replaced by a yet more hideous, though less vivid one of the disfigured and bloated corpse he had seen earlier that day. Then he clearly heard Aragorn's voice calling to him, 'Faramir, help me, mellon nin!'

The Steward awoke in a cold sweat .Not only had the nightmare been horrible but also unusually vivid. He had many psychic gifts but communing with the dead had never been amongst them, and even if it were, would not Aragorn be happy and peaceful in the afterlife? His own brushes with death had shown him there was nothing to fear beyond the circles of the world. A man such as the King had been, would most surely be rewarded with eternal bliss by the Valar. .

Alternately sleeping and waking, he was relieved when the sun creeping over the eastern horizon, heralded the approaching dawn at last. Even so, he viewed the rising sun with bitterness. With Aragorn's death, the sun had set forever in his life and over the future of Gondor. The return of the King had heralded such hope for so many, which would now never come to fruition. Eldarion was but a babe in arms, and any hopes for him achieving his father's greatness had been meant for a distant future.

Having fallen asleep fully dressed, Faramir forced himself to change and wash the tear stains from his face. He felt worse even, than when he had learned of his brother's death. Then, his visions had at least shown him his brother at peace and the encroaching enemy had left him little time for thought.

He began the day with a task he dreaded, fetching the Star of Elendil and Anduril from where Aragorn kept them. If the King still lived, he would never have dreamed of touching the legendary sword, even though he had once been given leave to hold it, which had more than sufficed to fulfil a dream. Now, as part of the King's regalia, he must take it to Arwen to keep for Eldarion along with the jewel to wear on his brow.

At his request, Aedred, one of the most experienced members of the Houses of Healing came to his apartments early that morning. Born in Rohan, Aedred had come to Gondor after the War of the Ring and proved himself exceptionally skilled in the healing arts.

When Aedred was shown in to his study, he looked distressed and shuffled his feet as he handed a large parcel to Faramir. "You will need to take the your King's clothes and rings to show to your Queen to identify him by, so gentle a lady could not view his body thus disfigured," Aedred informed him grimly. "I fear I have grave tidings for you. Master Tarostar and I believe that King Elessar was hit over the head before he entered the water and battered about the face. His jaw, nose and cheekbones are shattered. He must have been set upon by footpads intent on robbing him but fallen in the river before they could take his two valuable rings. Either that, or they recognised them and knew trying to sell them would betray their guilt"

Faramir looked at the healer aghast. "You mean that he did not drown then?" It sounded a foolish question even as he voiced it aloud, yet it seemed unthinkable that the greatest warrior of the age should have died at the hands of common robbers.

Aedred shook his head sadly. "There was no water in his lungs, so I fear that means that King Elessar was almost certainly murdered." he replied.

TBC

_A/N A big thank you to all my reviewers. All your comments are much appreciated._

_I don't think this site has any rules about labelling stories as AU or character death, unlike some others, so my readers will just have to wait and see what happens! Thank you all for deciding to stay. I feared I might frighten you all away in the last chapter!_

_Faramir recalls events in chapter 6 of "Facing the Darkness"._


	6. Sad Stories of the Death of Kings

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

_With special thanks to Raksha._

**For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground  
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!  
How some have been deposed, some slain in war,  
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,  
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed—  
All murdered; for within the hollow crown  
That rounds the mortal temples** **of a king  
Keeps Death his court,**

_William Shakespeare (1564–1616), British poet. King Richard II (III, ii)._

Faramir gave a sharp intake of breath and cold fury suddenly animated his grief dulled eyes." Those who did this monstrous deed must be caught and punished." he said in a tone of voice that Aedred had never heard the gentle natured Steward use before.

"To kill a king is indeed the most monstrous of crimes!" Aedred agreed. "Not only is Prince Eldarion left without a father but the whole of Gondor is left without her rightful sire."

The healer's well meant comment brought a lump to the Steward's throat. Aragorn had indeed been as a true father to him, the most caring of sires, who had freely given him all the love that his own father had lavished solely upon Boromir.

"Did the King suffer much do you think?" Fearful that his emotions would betray him, Faramir abruptly changed the subject and this time his tone was almost pleading.

Aedred hesitated for a moment. "If the blow to the head caused him to lose consciousness at once, he would not have done," he said at last. "We can only hope that was how it happened."

Faramir closed his eyes for a moment but gave no other sign of emotion. "Did you learn anything else from the body?" he asked.

"Only that it belonged to healthy male who was about forty years old, but I know the King's Numenorean heritage would make him only appear to be that age." Aedred replied, stroking his blonde beard thoughtfully. "He was well nourished and healthy but the body was too badly damaged to tell if he bore any scars, or even if he were bruised before entering the water. Of the King's state of health when alive, I knew very little. There was once when he collapsed, I tried to tend to him but he recovered before I had much chance to examine him.

Knowing that could only have been when Aragorn had saved his life after he was beaten in prison but a few months before, Faramir gripped the edge of the desk tightly. He wondered bleakly if Aragorn would have been stronger to resist attack if he had expended less of his precious life energy on him.

"Now, my lord, if you would excuse me, I have many fever victims needing my help who lie sick in the Houses of Healing," Aedred remarked, sensing his need for privacy.

"Of course, the King would not have wished otherwise." Faramir replied, grateful for the healer's tact. "I must be on my way too, to tell the Queen of the death of her husband."

"I offer my condolences to the poor lady and pledge my support to King Eldarion. Eomer King will be most distressed when he hears these grievous tidings. He thought very highly of King Elessar, I know." Aedred said gravely. Dipping his head, as a sign of respect to the effective ruler of Gondor, he then turned and left the room.

Knowing he should examine the King's effects before giving them to Aragorn's widow, Faramir pulled the parcel towards him. He opened it with a shudder.

The jewellery was in a separate smaller parcel on top of the clothing. He opened that first, tipping the Ring of Barahir, and Aragorn's Elven pledge ring out on to the palm of his hand.

Of Aragorn's Ring of State, there was no sign. It was a most unusual ring, which bore an ingenious Elvish device to prevent any but the King using it, as the stone had to be turned in a certain way before the seal was usable. Maybe Aragorn had taken it off before going to the Houses of Healing though that was unlike him? On the other hand, perhaps the thieves had taken it not knowing its significance? The Elessar was missing too, but that was hardly surprising, as any thief would realise how valuable it was, though its true worth was apparent to one man only.

He turned his attention to the clothes, though he could hardly bear to handle them. Only a few days before they had covered his King, who now reduced to a bloated corpse, who was now currently undergoing the grisly attentions of the embalmers.

The familiar garments were badly stained and torn but still instantly recognisable, the black velvet tunic, embroidered with the White Tree of Gondor. Aragorn had several of these, which he always wore in public, each with a slightly different design and all embroidered by Arwen's own hand.

Then a shirt of scarlet silk, of the kind that had saved the King from a severe arrow injury a less than a year ago. This time it had not sufficed to save him from death.

The plain black breeches were unremarkable but of fine quality wool, while the drawers likewise were of finest linen.

The boots still dripped water over Faramir's desk, though attempts had obviously been made to dry them without causing them to disintegrate.

For safekeeping, and maybe also as an attempt to feel closer to the man he had loved and worshipped, Faramir placed the two rings on a chain he wore round his neck, adding them to the gold charm of a horse Eowyn had given him.

Wrapping the pathetic remnants of clothing up again, Faramir started to weep afresh. Blowing his nose determinedly; he bade a servant summon an escort to ride out with him and slowly made his way to the stables.

As he had done ever since the day Aragorn disappeared, he paused at Roheryn's stall to give him a titbit and rub his soft muzzle while whispering words in Elvish to him.

The proud stallion would need exercising soon and he would have to ask the Queen if should he ride him or not .If only Eowyn were here as she was truly gifted with horses. He could tell that Roheryn was missing his master and wondered if he somehow knew he was dead, and that soon he would walk riderless in his funeral procession.

Sighing, he gave him a final pat and then told the stable boy to move him to the more spacious stables outside the city gates, hoping that maybe he would pine less for his master there.

He then saddled Iavas, who occupied the next stall, waving aside the stable boy. He preferred to do it himself as the beautiful chestnut mare, that Eomer had gifted him on his wedding day, was his pride and joy. He found it soothing to perform such everyday tasks on her.

Once mounted, he rode out into the yard to await the escort who were already gathering.

Since thebattle that had almost killed him, he had not served actively in the army,though he remained as third in command after the King and his Uncleand he liked to keep a keen eye on the men who served the King and himself. These soldiers were young, little more than lads, who had taken the places of their elders slain in the war. That was, apart from the one, who was their Captain, Anborn, who had been one of his rangers in Ithilien.

The group set off, the cheerful winter sunshine seeming to mock their melancholy errand. Faramir was surprised at how his spirits lifted once they left the City behind and began the gallop across the Pellenor.

Such was the mental bond between the King and himself; he had always assumed that if anything happened to Aragorn, he would know at the very instant it did. He felt deeply ashamed that he had not known until shown the corpse of his beloved friend.

How he had cherished the gift of being able to share thoughts with Aragorn! He had been denied the opportunity to enjoy the gift of his Race for so long. Now he would never again the beauty of that unique intimacy, for even if Elestelle had the ability, it would require a unique closeness as well as him living until she reached maturity. Something he greatly doubted would happen now, for once the full impact of Aragorn's loss sunk in, surely his heart would break.

Already he felt desperately lonely without the King. Much as he loved and desired Eowyn, they had very little in common apart their deep love for each other. Faramir had loved both his wife and Aragorn equally, albeit in very different ways and he had felt complete with Eowyn as his cherished wife and the mother of his child,while Aragorn had beome both father and brother to him. Between them, they had formed the mainstays of his existence and made him feel complete for the first time in his life.

He loved books, Elvish lore, Numenorean history, and Gondor while Eowyn was interested in none of those, whereas Aragorn was. She was as outgoing, as he was shy and reserved; she preferred to go riding while he sat reading, and found books boring and would much rather practise sword fighting, which he only did out of duty.

They had learned to tolerate and even celebrate their differences. Eowyn had been delighted that Aragorn had given her husband the intellectual companionship that she could not, whereas Aragorn had delighted in the way that Eowyn encouraged her husband to take more exercise and not think until he tied himself in knots over some obscure problem with no answer to it. Eowyn's keen tongue and sense of humour had kept Faramir from retreating inside his shell.

Eowyn had always found the Numenorean mental gifts somewhat disconcerting yet had been relieved that Faramir had found a kindred spirit to share them with. Although it was only chance, that had prevented her inheriting the same gifts from her grandmother, she was extremely thankful she had not and already told Faramir that she wondered how she would react if Elestelle grew up to have visions, see the future and read thoughts.

Faramir was jolted out of his reverie by a strong sensation that they were being followed. He sensed danger much as he had done the last night of Aragorn's life when he had held his exhausted friend in his arms.

He knew the lords of the Council were curious concerning the whereabouts of the Queen and Eldarion. When he had left the Council Chamber after announcing Aragorn's death, they had clamoured after him with questions to which he had replied that the Queen must be left to grieve in peace, and that she would return for the funeral. He had no wish for half the Council to turn up on his doorstep and pester Arwen while she mourned her husband.

They were now approaching a thickly wooded copse and Faramir led his men into the dense woodland following the path though the skeletal winter foliage until they came to a thicket of evergreens.

He called Anborn to one side, while evaluating the horses the men rode, looking for a chestnut like Iavas. These were all fairly docile horses from the Royal Mews, available to any soldier who needed a mount. To his relief, he recognised Chessie amongst them, a mare of far less breeding but similar appearance to Iavas.

"I think we are maybe being followed," he told Anborn " I need you to change clothes with me, as we are of similar build and colouring. Exchange mounts with the man riding Chessie as she could pass for Iavas and I shall go on alone. You take your men in another direction to throw off the pursuers.

"Yes sir, I fear for the poor Queen and her babe, or the new King, as I should say." Anborn was already divesting himself of his cloak and tunic.

"The fever is a grave threat to us all." Faramir replied, doing likewise but first removing the broach Aragorn had given him, which he used as fasten for his cloak, and giving Anborn back his own pin.

"I wasn't thinking of the fever, begging your pardon, sir," Anborn replied, "These are dangerous times for a young babe to hold the throne, though I pledge my loyalty to him unreservedly .Be careful, Lord Faramir, as you obviously plan to go on alone. You are the actual ruler of our beloved land until Eldarion comes of age!"

"That is for the Council to decide." Faramir said shortly, "Now ride out of here in a close group, so if we truly have pursuers, they will not notice one missing for a while."

Waiting, concealed in the thicket for a few minutes while they left, a sudden and terrible thought struck Faramir. What if Aragorn's death had not been the work of mindless thugs but a carefully targeted assassination? Why had he not thought of it before? It seemed even the lowliest soldiers who knew nothing of the facts were fearful for Eldarion's safety?

He had been so wrapped in his own grief that he had failed to realise that Arwen and Eldarion could be in grave danger. How long would it take before the assassins if such they were, realised that they were staying at his home? That would mean Eowyn and Elestelle were in danger too!

Satisfying himself that there were no pursuers currently in sight, he rode like the wind for Emyn Arnen.

TBC

A/N

_A very big thank you for all your kind reviews. I am so pleased to see my faithful readers back and to welcome some new ones too._

_I borrowed Caranthir (with permission) for my previous story as I did not feel confident to write a healer, but as my readers liked Aedred, I decided to create my own Warden of the Houses of Healing too._

_I intend this story to be at least as long as "Shadow and Thought" but much will depend on the level of interest and if I feel compelled to write more chapters as I did in "Burden of Guilt". You will have to wait and see whether this is a detective story about "Who killed Aragorn and will Eldarion's throne be secured?" or something different entirely!_


	7. I would not live halved

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**For I wondered that others, subject to death did live, since he whom I loved, as if he should never die, was dead; and I wondered yet more that myself, who was to him a second self, could live, he being dead. Well said one of his friend, "Thou half of my soul;" for I felt that my soul and his soul were "one soul in two bodies:" and therefore was my life a horror to me, because I would not live halved - St Augustine.**

Faramir made his way first to the stables and handed Iavas' reins to a stable boy, telling him to rub down the exhausted mare.

Keeping his distance from the servants, he despatched a groom to the house to fetch him a complete change of clothing, telling him to speak to the Housekeeper rather than Lady Eowyn. He knew his wife would come rushing out and much as he yearned to see her, he dared not risk spreading the infection.

The man quickly returned, clutching a bundle of clothing. He then requested a pail of water and retired to a deserted stall, where he removed all his clothes, sponged himself down with the icy water, shivering as he did so. He then quickly donned the clean clothes, but not before, he had removed his brooch and pinned it to his tunic after rinsing it in the bucket.

He then went in search of Eowyn and the Queen, wondering however, he could find the words, to tell her that Aragorn was dead. It had always been hard enough to tell the wife or mother of one of his rangers that their kinsman was dead, but they were not Elves, liable to die of grief, neither were their loved ones men of the quality of Aragorn, nor had he loved them as father, brother and king.

Eowyn was outside tending her herb garden, when Faramir strode into sight and ran to meet him. From the expression on his face, she realised at once that something was wrong.

"Faramir, Whatever has happened?" she exclaimed, "I wondered if you might come for Arwen has sensed something was wrong and dark dreams have troubled her sleep all week."

"It is Aragorn," Faramir said bleakly, drawing her close.

Eowyn paled. "Has he caught the fever? Is he very ill? Maybe I could help him or the Queen could?"

Sadly, Faramir shook his head.

"No, he cannot be …" Eowyn could not bring herself to say the words.

Faramir nodded, biting back the lump that was forming in his throat.

Eowyn threw her arms around him and held him tightly .Faramir wept in the comfort of her loving embrace.

He gave way for a few moments before continuing, " I fear so, he is dead, his corpse was taken from the Anduin yesterday morning!" Faramir whispered, clinging to her desperately.

"No!" Eowyn gasped, "It can't be!"

Faramir nodded, too overcome to speak, " I fear it is true, I saw his body," he said at last, "He had been set upon by footpads and battered about the face and was hardly recognisable apart from his clothing and rings. That such a man should die like this! It was too cruel!"

It was Eowyn's turn to weep now. "If only I had recognised his true worth sooner and been nicer to him," she sobbed. "He was the noblest and greatest of men. Poor, poor Arwen!"

Just then, the Queen emerged from the house, carrying Eldarion in her arms.

Faramir reluctantly pulled away from Eowyn's embrace and struggled valiantly to compose himself. He swiftly fell on one knee before the beautiful Elf.

"What is wrong?" she asked, noting Faramir's reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks.

"My lady, my lord!" He kissed her hand and did the same to Eldarion's infant fingers," I think it best that we go inside if you will permit?"

Arwen shuddered at his tone and the formality of his address as she let the way indoors to Faramir and Eowyn's comfortably furnished sitting room. She settled herself on the couch, Eldarion on her lap, gesturing Faramir to do likewise but again he knelt before her.

"My lady, I fear I bring ill tidings which I scarcely know how to tell you."

"It concerns Estel does it not? He has been injured?"

"Far worse, I fear, my lady. It breaks my heart to tell you this, but he is dead."

Arwen turned pale and almost dropped Eldarion. Eowyn hastily caught the baby with one hand and steadied the Queen with the other. She then settled herself down beside her.

"No, I do not believe it!" Arwen protested.

"I fear it is the truth. I saw his body with my own eyes and bring these tokens for you to identify him by." Faramir placed the parcel containing Aragorn's clothes on a table in the centre of the room and unfastened the chain from his neck and placed Aragorn's rings and the Star of Elendil in her shaking hand. He then laid Anduril at her feet.

She turned the rings over hardly seeming to see them and gave a small cry, shaking her head. "No, despite this, it cannot be! He has been calling to me in my dreams. I was about to send a trusted man to Minas Tirith to find out what was wrong."

A shiver ran down Faramir's spine. "The same think had happed to me, my lady, I fear after such an untimely death, our poor lord cannot rest easy in the afterlife. I pledge myself to your service and Eldarion's as I did to his .If by my life or death I can serve you, I will."

Arwen placed her hand under Faramir's chin, jerking his head to meet her eyes. " I do not doubt your loyalty but tell me Faramir, the body you saw, are you _certain _it was Estel. Did you see his face clearly?"

Faramir swallowed hard, "No my Lady I did not, it pains me to tell you this, but his features were unrecognisable after being in the river .Master Aedred, from the Houses of Healing, told me he was battered about the face, most likely by footpads who robbed him. However, there was no doubt that it was Aragorn. Here are the clothes that he was wearing, he would never willingly surrender his rings to another and there is no sign of him anywhere!"

"Do you feel as if half of your soul has been torn away?" Arwen suddenly asked.

" No, which surprises me, but my heart is heavy with grief and after all you are his wife, maybe only you will know that sorrow?"

"And yet I do not!" Arwen gestured Faramir to rise, "You and he shared thoughts, as did he and I, and so we would both feel that torment if he were dead! You were thought bonded to him alone, were you not?"

"Yes, my lady, and I had never shared thoughts before Aragorn gave me that wonderful gift!"

"Then if he were dead, you most likely would be too!" Arwen retorted, "Unless

your protestations of devotion were nothing but a lie !"

"Indeed no, my lady, I loved him most dearly. He was as a father to me!" Faramir looked hurt by the accusation.

"You may sit down, Faramir, I tell you he is still alive!"

Faramir sat, shaking his head sadly, he had expected a terrible outpouring of grief from the Queen, or maybe that she would swoon, but not this stubborn refusal to face the truth, especially not from one of the Eldar.

"What happened? When did you last see him?" the Queen demanded.

He decided to tell her everything, hoping that would help her to understand what had happened.

"The King worked so hard to help the fever victims that he became exhausted and distressed at so much death, I fear that was how ruffians could overpower so great a warrior, if only I had insisted that he take a guard with him!" he began, "As you asked me to share his room, I tried as best I could to care for him." He glanced uneasily at Eowyn wondering if how vulnerable Aragorn had become should be for Arwen's ears alone.

She moved from her place beside the Queen and nodded to Faramir, " I just need to see if Elestelle needs feeding, as the nurse sometime neglects to call me until she becomes upset. I will be back in a moment," she said, quietly leaving the room.

Faramir continued "The last night of the King's life, I have never seen him so despondent. He had been unable to save a baby from the fever and was very distressed. He could hardly eat and was too weary to prepare for bed. I just sat with my arm around him, offering what comfort I could. Eventually he grew calmer and we sat there sharing thoughts before he fell asleep I begged him to rest all of the next day but he would not listen. He slept for a few hours in the afternoon and then seemed in good spirits when he left to tend the sick once more. I never saw him alive again. I know I should have come before, but I feared to carry the infection and kept hoping, that he had just gone to recuperate in the wilds. If only he could have been with you that last night, as I know he was missing you."

"I am glad he had your comfort before he was taken." Arwen replied, making Faramir hope that the dreadful truth had finally sunk in. "But you were _that _close in spirit so recently and do not feel your soul torn asunder? That cannot be unless he meant nothing to you at all? Do you not know why Aragorn waited so long before creating the Thought Bond with you, rather than offering it after your time at the Hunting Lodge? Because he knew you would most likely die before him, and hesitated to feel such pain as he did when Gilraen and Halbarad died. Only his bond with me then, saved his heart from breaking! He also knewshould you bond strongly ,that if he were to die first,it would destroy you !"

Arwen's eyes flashed and Faramir took a step backward uncertain how to react.

"My lady, I swear to you that I loved him and would gladly have given my own life to save his. I miss him more than any words can describe and every night I dream about him! I expect that my heart will break once the numbness and shock I feel now have decreased somewhat."

Arwen suddenly swept to her feet and Faramir realised how little he knew her. This was the first time he had even been alone with her for more than a brief moment. He had always liked and respected her and never quite lost his awe of her as one of the Eldar, yet he had regarded her merely as Aragorn's wife and his Queen, a beautiful, wise and gentle being but at times almost insipid in character, especially compared with Eowyn.

Now as she advanced towards him and placed her hands either side of his face, she seemed to suddenly grow taller .He was reminded that she was daughter and granddaughter to the most powerful Elves that had dwelt on Middle Earth.

He could feel her sifting through his thoughts, a painful and unpleasant sensation, which made his head throb, totally unlike the gentle and mutual thought sharing he had experienced with Aragorn .He felt as if she was literally tearing thoughts from his brain.

TBC

_A/N A very big thank you to you all for your kind and much appreciated reviews and a warm welcome back to some readers I had missed._

_My apologies that I am not very good at writing Faramir and Eowyn. I see them as an attraction of opposites, which does indeed often happen in real life._

_I have tried to correct the mistakes in the previous chapter. I am always grateful when readers tell me of any errors I make._


	8. Look Friends,don't you see it ?

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Mild und leise**

**wie er lächelt,  
wie das Auge  
hold er öffnet  
seht ihr's Freunde?  
Seht ihr's nicht?**

**( Softly and gently, how he smiles, as sweetly he opens his eyes, look friends, don't you see it ?) **

**Wagner – Tristan and Isolde**.

Finally, she released him, leaving him to stagger to the couch, where he sat with his throbbing head in his hands. He could not have felt more uncomfortably exposed had she torn all the clothing from his body and left him naked to her gaze.

She immediately came to sit beside him, again the gentle Elf that he thought he knew.

"I am sorry." She reached out her hand and lightly touched his forehead, causing the pain to vanish as suddenly as it had appeared. "I know now how much you love him, differently, of course than I do, but just as sincerely. You told me no lie. I have seen the depths of his love and grief towards you when you lay near death and I needed to know, if your devotion is equal to that he bears you, since you truly believe that he is dead."

"Please look at his clothes, my lady," Faramir said wearily, not wanting to distress her, but hoping she would finally realise the dreadful truth once she had inspected the parcel's pathetic contents. What the Queen was saying made little sense to him and he could only surmise that she had hoped to somehow prove that he was lying to her.

He unwrapped the parcel for her and sat with bowed head as she touched each tattered garment, which she proceeded to do without speaking or showing any sign of emotion until she came to the linen drawers. "These are not Estel's, "she said firmly, "They are the same size and quality that he wears, but there is no white tree embroidered upon them!"

Faramir suddenly remembered an incident from the previous summer, when he had gone swimming with Aragorn and Legolas. Some goats had eaten their clothing and had taken a bite out of the King's drawers while he was actually wearing them, much to Aragorn's indignation. He had complained to him about 'his White Tree' being eaten.

"Was it just above the knee?" he asked Arwen.

"Yes, for I have embroidered the device on every pair of drawers that he owns as well as his nightwear and shirts! These are not Estel's but belonged to the poor wretch whose body you saw! It was not footpads to blame, I fear, but someone who covets the throne of Gondor and who wants us to think that Estel is dead. They know nothing of thought bonds and how they unite those joined by them, though!"

"That might well be true, my lady, that the murderers had planned to kill the King, but I fear it was _his _body that I saw with my own eyes," Faramir said, with increasing desperation, wondering however could he convince her to accept the dreadful truth.

Tell me what did you see in your dreams, Faramir?" Arwen asked in abrupt change of subject.

"They were but phantoms of a troubled mind, my lady," Faramir replied, not wishing to say anything to further encourage her stubborn refusal to accept Aragorn's death.

"Tell me!"

He had little choice but to comply as she lifted her hands as if she planned to wrest more thoughts from his brain.

"I saw Aragorn's face. He was bloodied and bruised and was begging me to aid him," Faramir replied. "He was in some dark place which I could not see. Obviously, I was seeing him just before he died. It preys on my mind that I was not there to aid him when he needed me."

Arwen shook her head vehemently "That is no mere dream, listen to what your heart tells you! I have seen exactly the same, night after night, every day for almost a week. These are no mere dreams! Now tell me everything that has been happening since I left Minas Tirith."

Feeling on somewhat safer ground here, Faramir did as he was bidden, telling her of the people grumbling at Aragorn'smethods to prevent the fever spreading and of the Council, some of whose members had never taken to the King and who complained ceaselessly about his reforms

He told her how they appeared to have been trying to bring the old regime back in one form or another, by every means possible, ranging from questioning whether an Elf could truly bear a mortal's child, to most recently trying to contrive a marriage between Eldarion and Elbeth.

Arwen knew some of these facts but her expression darkened the more Faramir told her.

The Steward concluded by saying, "And I fear now, my lady, that you too might be in danger for there was an attempt to follow me here. I succeeded in throwing off the pursuers. At first I merely thought them curious, as to your whereabouts but it seems something more sinister may be at work."

"That is precisely what I suspected," said Arwen grimly," They have captured my husband and are planning to use this Elbeth to gain power through a marriage to my son!"

Faramir rubbed his eyes, trying hard to concentrate on working out what to say or do next but found grief and weariness were making it difficult to do so, or indeed to even take in all the implications of what Arwen was saying. Could it be possible that his King still lived? Was there some sinister plot against the Royal Family or was it just wishful thinking, rather than the cruel reality that the man they both loved was no more, killed in the same random fashion that any beggar might be?

Arwen laid a cool hand on his brow, "You need to rest," she said gently, "Go now to Eowyn and lie down. We will talk again later."

"Do you not need Eowyn with you tonight to comfort you?" he asked, for much as he desired the solace of his wife's presence, duty always had to come first.

"I am not in need of comfort but rather of counsel how best to aid my husband! I would be alone now." Arwen replied in a voice that brokered no argument.

Faramir inclined his head and left the room, going first in search of his loyal captain Beregond, who guarded his household here at Emyn Arnen and bade him to be especially vigilant. He then went in search of Eowyn and his daughter.

He found Eowyn sitting on the bed, watching over Elestelle in her cradle and crying quietly.

Faramir entered and picked up his daughter holding her tightly, as if fearing that some evil might tear her from him too.

A fresh wave of grief overwhelmed him at the realisation; she would grow up without knowing the one who had saved her life after her untimely birth. Young though she was, she appeared to have already developed a bond with the King. Often he had been able to soothe her, with a single word or touch when Faramir and Eowyn's best efforts failed.

Sensing his distress, the baby began to cry. Faramir sat rocking her until she quietened.

His wife wordlessly took the infant, put her to her breast, and soothed her until she began to suckle contentedly.

Faramir watched his daughter with something approaching envy that her cares could so easily be remedied.

"You look exhausted," Eowyn said, replacing her daughter in the cradle. "Why not prepare for bed? It is growing late and you will have to return to the City tomorrow. I will go and see how the Queen fares."

Faramir nodded and retired to his dressing room to change into his nightshirt, then after washing his face and hands, he climbed into bed.

The Steward must have dozed slightly as the next thing he was aware of, was Eowyn climbing into bed beside him.

She pulled him close and they lay there tightly clasped in each other's arms, clinging to each other as desperately as shipwrecked mariners to a plank of driftwood.

"How is the Queen?" Faramir asked," I fear for the poor lady, when she finally accepts the truth. She believes to see some clever scheming behind the King's death but I still think he was the victim of footpads. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"She could be right, you should not underestimate her," Eowyn replied, giving Arwen's suspicious more credence than Faramir would have expected. "Remember that Wormtongue almost destroyed my Uncle with his plotting "And my cousin Theodred's death was no random Orc attack but a carefully planned ambush. Something similar could have happened to Aragorn."

" I hoped now Sauron was destroyed that such evil was a thing of the past." Faramir said sadly, "But the way some of the Council Members behave appals me, they seem to have hated Aragorn!"

Eowyn thought sadly about how much she had once hated him herself. "He inspires strong emotions, "she said thoughtfully, "But once you truly knew him, you cannot help but to have loved him. He did so much for us. Without him we would have died as well as losing our baby!" She glanced fondly to where Elestelle was sleeping peacefully in her crib at the foot of the bed.

"So you think the Queen could be right?" Faramir enquired.

"About the conspiracy, yes, but I fear it is just wishful thinking that her husband is still alive. After all, you saw the body. She probably forgot to embroider one pair of his drawers and I cannot make any sense of all these premonitions and mental bonds! I think you both are just being troubled by evil dreams which is natural given the circumstances."

"Aragorn would know what it all meant." Faramir said without thinking and promptly burst into tears." Oh, Eowyn, his poor body was so mutilated that I could not even give him a farewell kiss in blessing!" he sobbed.

Eowyn kissed him tenderly and stroked his dark hair. Too distraught for any thoughts of passion, they clung together tightly for mutual comfort until they finally fell asleep.

As the night progressed, Faramir dreamed again of the King, this time more bloodied and haggard than before, he was gazing at his Steward with those remarkable compelling eyes of his, while calling out,' Faramir, listen, you must help me but be careful!"

Faramir cried out and awoke covered in a cold sweat.

"What is the matter, are you ill?" Eowyn asked in alarm.

"It was Aragorn again, I saw him again calling me!" Faramir replied, clutching at her wildly.

Before she could say anything, they heard screams from the Queen's bedchamber.

Eowyn pulled on her robe over her nightgown and hurried to investigate what ailed her friend.

_TBC_

_A big thank you to all my readers for your very kind and much appreciated comments. I am humbled and amazed by your response._

_Faramir and Arwen do indeed have a great deal to learn about each other._


	9. I know not 'seems'

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not "seems."  
'T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother,  
Nor customary suits of solemn black.**

**_Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2 _****William Shakespeare**** (1564–1616)**

Faramir sat up in bed; hugging himself tightly, trying to regain his composure and make sense of what was happening.

Arwen's cries suggested that, she had finally comprehended the dreadful truth that she was a widow. Most likely, Eowyn would now have to stay with her for the remainder of the night, to comfort her as best she could. Much as Faramir yearned for the comfort of his wife's presence, he could not begrudge the Queen her company, as he would have greatly welcomed the presence of a loved one when he had first been told the dreadful tidings and seen Aragorn's body.

These dreams were so vivid, it actually seemed that Aragorn was indeed trying to communicate with him from the afterlife. Arwen was right, he would have expected to feel that his soul had been torn asunder, at the loss of one to whom he was so closely attuned and loved so dearly. Perhaps he was having these dreams instead, as maybe; he was just not yet able to fully face up the dreadful finality of his loss?

Eowyn re - entered the room and much to his embarrassment, for he was clad only in his bedraggled nightshirt, Arwen was with her.

He dared not rise from the bed, given his state of undress, yet felt uncomfortable that she was standing while he was not. "My lady are you well?" he enquired, trying to act as politely as he could under the circumstances.

He noticed then that the Queen looked animated and almost excited, while his wife was pale and looked to be in a state of shock. "Arwen has just had an identical dream to yours!" Eowyn exclaimed, "Every detail was the same, except that Aragorn called her name!"

"Do you believe me now?" Arwen asked, ignoring Faramir's blushes, "We must save him! He is calling to us both as you and I both share the Thought Bond with him! He is not dead! He needs us to rescue him from his captors!"

" _I_ must save him _if_ he still lives." Faramir replied, "You, my lady are needed to protect Eldarion." He pulled the blankets up to his chin as he spoke.

"Could you not feel him speaking to you inside your head?" Arwen demanded.

Faramir nodded. Much as he feared to let himself hope, it beggared belief that it was mere coincidence, that both he and Arwen should have such vivid and identical dreams. "If you would permit me to dress, my lady, we will discuss this." he said quietly.

"Come,Arwen!" said Eowyn, "It will be warmer in the kitchens, as the stove is kept burning all night. Let us go and wait for Faramir there."

Still feeling shaken from the aftermath of the dream, or vision, which now seemed more likely, Faramir swiftly pulled on his clothes and went to join the two women. He found them sipping tea and gladly accepted a cup, liberally sweetened with honey. Arwen bade him to sit down.

"I believe that Estel has been kidnapped, probably by those who wish to restore the House of Stewards." Arwen announced, "I sense they want something from him, maybe a signed deed of abdication, and are only keeping him alive until they get it. This would be an ideal time for miscreants to stage a coup while the City is ravaged by fever."

"I would die before I betrayed my King!" Faramir protested, spilling hot tea on his lap in his agitation. "I would not take the crown nor proclaim myself ruler of Gondor, if the whole council begged me to, nor serve as Steward to any, save Aragorn and his rightful heirs."

"You are no longer the only heir of Denethor." Eowyn pointed out as she mopped up the spilled tea off her grimacing husband." There is Elbeth and also our own daughter, both too young to wield power but vulnerable to be used as puppets!"

"You must find out who has taken Aragorn and rescue him!" Arwen said determinedly.

"But how?" asked Faramir, " I have no proof. I cannot just arrest Lord Lamedon, demand custody of my niece and rescue Aragorn, assuming that sad excuse for a noble, actually holds him! It could be any of them as many of the lords were openly hostile to him! I can only be certain of my Uncle Imrahil's loyalty, and even he is closely related to all Denethor's heirs too!" He buried his face in his hands, desperate to save Aragorn if he yet lived, yet overwhelmed at the enormity of the task ahead.

"Aragorn told me that you were often at loggerheads in Council Meetings." Arwen remarked, a plan beginning to form in her mind.

"Yes, though most of the time, it was feigned, as a ruse to get our own way against the stubborn nobles, though, alas, we did truly quarrel at the last Session, as he called my family unstable. If I had known what was going to happen, he could have called us the worse villains that ever lived, and I would not have minded!" Faramir groaned.

"That is wonderful!" Arwen smiled for the first time since Faramir had arrived, "You can pretend that you are delighted Estel is dead, and that you would like to see the Stewards return to power!"

"What?" Faramir protested, "I have always sworn never to tell a falsehood even to trap an Orc! How can one achieve good by doing evil?"

"Usually one cannot." Arwen said sadly, "Yet, was not the one Ring destroyed, when Gollum took it from the Ring bearer by force? The ways of the Valar are beyond even the knowledge of the Eldar."

"I would do _anything _to save my King if he yet lives. Even if it were to cost me both life and soul!" Faramir conceded, "Yet how can I show my loyally by seeming betrayal? I do not think I could !"

Arwen advanced towards him, as she had done the previous night, and again placed her hands on his face. Once more, he felt the disconcerting sensation of having his innermost thoughts probed.

Her inscrutable expression suddenly softened to a smile, "You would rather die than betray Estel," she stated, looking him in the eye, "Whatever may happen I know that in your heart you will always love and revere him and that will give you the strength to do as I ask.. You wonder why you find my probing so unpleasant do you not?"

Faramir nodded slightly, his head aching too much to move it much. "It is because we lack the bond to see into each others thoughts like you and Estel share." she explained, " I inherited my ability from my Grandmother, who used it to see into the hearts of men. I have tested you, as she tested your brother, but unlike him, you have passed. Now take this!"

She slid the ring of Barahir off her thumb where she had placed it earlier and handed it to Faramir. "Wear his ring!" she commanded.

"My Lady! " he protested, "How can I take this? It is one of the heirlooms of the line of Elendil!"

"If you openly wear it, it will signal to those who oppose Elendil's line, that you think the House of Hurin should have taken the crown. That should encourage them to approach you, and maybe then, you can then learn of Estel's whereabouts .I know that with your sense of honour, you would rather take troops and search the homes of everyone who has opposed the King at the Council. However, such a move would probably be fruitless, only stir up resentment, and further endanger Estel's life. A more subtle method should bring about better results."

Faramir hesitated for a moment, his thoughts in turmoil. To pretend to be a traitor was alien to everything in his nature and yet if he resolutely stayed true to his own principles, he could be betraying his King, the one he given his sworn oath to serve until death. He owed everything to Aragorn and in return loved him dearly. How could he not hazard all to save him, or at the very least secure the throne for his son?

These last few hours had taught Faramir far more about the Queen than the previous three years had done. Before, she had appeared to him, solely as Aragorn's wife, beautiful, gentle and placid. He had known only that she had a kind heart and that Eowyn loved her dearly. He supposed too, that an only an exceptional woman, would have suckled his daughter and cared for Eowyn day and night after her birth. Then it was most unlikely too, that Aragorn would have spent so much time restoring him to health, without at least the approval of his wife. He realised he had gravely underestimated his Queen.

The powers she processed combined with her wisdom and cunning amazed him. He understood now, why so many feared the Eldar and wondered whatever it must be like to be married to one.

Reluctantly, he slipped the ring on his finger, remembering with a pang as he did so, the occasion on which he had attempted to kiss that same ring, and how he had inadvertently bumped his nose against the King's. He had been mortified at the time but it had later become a source of amusement between himself and Aragorn.

" I wear this only until I can return it to its rightful owner." he said resolutely.

" If anyone can save Aragorn, you can!" Eowyn said encouragingly. "What have you done to him? He is in pain!" she asked Arwen indignantly.

"It was necessary, as I did not know his heart, like you and Estel do, though it grieves me to cause him pain." Arwen replied."You have my word I shall not do it again."

Her cool fingers felt his forehead in what felt almost like a caress. Immediately the pain in his head lessened. The Queen gave a low musical laugh, " I have not sifted Estel's thoughts like this since before our betrothal, as you are wondering how he endures it!" she smiled, "Do not look so surprised, I can see that question in your eyes, it took no special skills! I pity you mortals with your limited abilities. My powers waned while I was expecting Aragorn's child, so I have some idea what it must be like. You, Faramir must learn to dissemble better, for Estel's life is now in your hands! I trust you to restore him to me!"

" You must trust me then too, my Lady," Faramir replied, "If the dark forces we suspect are at work, it is not safe for you and Eowyn and the children to remain here. I was thinking of entrusting you to Beregond's keeping, but everyone knows him to be my man. Damrod is loyal to me too, though it is not so widely known. When I return, I will send him to take you to safety. I will then put it about, that I have you and Prince Eldarion in my custody, either that or you have disappeared without trace!"

"Excellent!" smiled Arwen, "You are learning quickly!"

Just then, Eldarion started to cry and Arwen went to soothe him, leaving Faramir and Eowyn alone.

"I fear for you, my love " Eowyn fretted, "If only Elestelle was not still dependant on my milk, I would come with you .I can wield a sword as well as any man."

"I know you can, beloved, and would have you at my side, but the Queen needs you as well as our child." Faramir told her. "Does she ever do this to you?" he enquired, rubbing his still aching head.

Eowyn shook her head." No, she does not, I have never seen her in a mood like this before."

"She is distraught as she loves Aragorn so much. I can understand that." Faramir replied, "I want above all else to save Aragorn, should he still live but I do not know if I can play the traitor!"

"You have greater strength than you know of," Eowyn reassured him. She placed her arms around him and their lips met in a tender kiss.

He relaxed into her embrace but then gave a sudden yelp of pain and clutched his shoulder.

TBC

_A grateful thank you for all your kind reviews. Each and every one is greatly appreciated._

_We still do not know for certain what has happened to Aragorn !_

_I am pleased you enjoy the quotes and feel theyhelp create the mood of the chapter._


	10. False face must hide

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Away, and mock the time with fairest show;  
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.**

**William Shakespeare (1564–1616), Macbeth, act 1, sc. 7, l. 81-2. **

"Whatever is the matter?" Eowyn's eyes were wide with concern.

"I felt a sudden pain here, " Faramir grimaced and rubbed his shoulder." It is easing now, so there is no cause for concern . I have had similar pains in my back a few days ago, it must be grief and worry causing it."

"Let me see!"

"It is nothing, I am well now, there is no need."

Ignoring his objections, Eowyn pulled aside his shirt and bared his shoulder. To her consternation, an angry red mark disfigured the flesh. Most curiously, it grew fainter even as she looked at it.

"Take your tunic and shirt off!" she demanded. "I want to see if you have any more these marks on you."

"But the Queen might come in!" Faramir protested.

"I am sure she has seen a shirtless man before, whatever your Gondorian rules of etiquette state!" Eowyn said firmly, whisking the garments over his head, before he could voice any further objections.

"What did you feel?" she asked. "Hold your arms out so I can see them!"

"It was if I had been flogged," he explained, casting an anxious glance towards the doorway, " I woke up feeling very stiff and sore all down my back."

Eowyn carefully examined him, but there was nothing to see. His skin was unblemished; thanks to the Elvish treatments Aragorn had given him.

"Maybe your back was sore from riding and it was an insect bite on your shoulder?" Eowyn frowned, hating to admit she was baffled.

"But it does not itch and what insect bite fades so quickly?" He shook his head in bewilderment. "And the pain, it was truly excruciating!"

Eowyn looked worried, "You should stay here a while then, and not go rushing back to Minas Tirith!" she said.

Certain he could hear footsteps, approaching, he grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on just as Arwen entered the room.

"What is wrong?" she asked, noticing their expressions.

"Faramir is experiencing strange pains in his back and shoulder. I am worried about him, though I cannot find any injury on him." Eowyn explained.

"Maybe he is feeling Estel's pain?" Arwen suggested.

Faramir looked horrified and then shook his head. "How could that be, my lady, since most likely you would feel it too?" he asked." I have only ever heard of twins feeling each other's pain, though, not even a husband and wife. Surely, such a thing is quite impossible?"

"You and Estel have an exceptionally strong Thought Bond, due to the circumstances in which it was formed," Arwen replied." Such a bond cannot ever be formed without love, but in your case, Estel gave a good deal of himself in saving your life at the same time, and that together with the gratitude you felt, would have deepened the bond you formed that day. Estel told it was a truly remarkable spiritual experience for you both."

"It was," Faramir said wistfully." I very much hope you are wrong, though, about my feeling the King's pain. I am sure it must be because I am distressed. Maybe, I never grieved properly for Boromir, as we were in the middle of a war and this has brought all that back to me as well."

He desperately wanted this explanation to be true for he could not bear to think of Aragorn being beaten and tortured, nor that his wife should have to dwell on such unspeakable thoughts. He tried to push the images from his dreams of the King's bloodied and bruised face, to the back of his mind.

"You should stay another day at least!" Eowyn pleaded, "You are not well .Your sorrow hangs heavy on your soul."

Faramir shook his head, " I cannot, my love, we both know how important our duty is. I assure you the pain has gone now. I must be on my way as soon as I have breakfasted. I intend to send Damrod to you, to take you and the Queen somewhere safer until I have discovered what has happened to Aragorn. Should I not return, you should try to make your way to Rohan and seek aid from your brother. I would tell you to go now, but the journey is too perilous at this time of year for women with young babies."

"Do not speak of such things!" Eowyn pleaded as Arwen tactfully withdrew, sensing their need for a few moments privacy.

Faramir gripped his wife's hands tightly. "I fear that I must, beloved. I know you have the courage and strength to face whatever lies ahead I know will not be easy. Damrod will take you into hiding, and I expect you and Arwen will have to pass as peasants. You will need to dye your hair to pass as a Gondorian, I fear. Take care of the Queen; try to keep her attention on Eldarion's need for her. She must not fade!"

Eowyn nodded gravely, "I will do as you say, but how I wish I could come with you though I know my duty lies here!"

Faramir drew her close and they shared a lingering kiss.

Breakfast seemed to pass all too quickly and an hour later Faramir was ready to return to Minas Tirith.

He respectfully knelt before his Queen to take his leave.

Arwen placed both hands on his head and he felt a sense of great power and strength surge through his body.

"May the blessing of the Valar go with you and their protection be upon you!" she said gravely," I await your safe return with my husband!"

"If he yet lives, I will give my all to restore him too you, whatever the cost!" Faramir vowed, clasping the hilt of his sword.

" I only hope that cost is not more than either you or Estel can bear!" Arwen replied, "Your heart is pure and true, though, and the love you bear for my husband will guide you."

He rose to his feet and kissed her hand before bidding a sad and loving farewell to his wife and daughter.

Faramir returned to the City via little known paths and constantly on the look out for any sign of pursuit.

Despite the ever-present threat of danger, his heart was far lighter than it had been the day before, at even the mere thread of a possibility, however slim, that Aragorn was still alive.

He was no stranger to intrigue, as there had always been factions within the Council that opposed his father's rule. In Denethor's day, voicing such thoughts aloud would have been construed as treason and punished by banishment or even death.

Maybe Aragorn was too good-natured by allowing such free debate and treating his enemies leniently? Yet, that was part of what was made the man so lovable, that like his Steward, he hated to use violence and cruelty.

Despite murmurs to the contrary, none had been more relieved than Faramir when Mahrod had been granted a swift and merciful execution, rather than the slow and agonising one the law allowed.

Faramir glanced at Aragorn's ring now on his finger and wondered however; he could pretend convincingly that he had hated him.

Yet, he knew if there a chance, however slim to save his lord, he would take it or die in the attempt.

He twisted it round it thoughtfully; glad that it made him feel closer to its rightful owner .He hoped that wearing it would somehow endow him with Aragorn's strength and courage.

He no longer dared to wear the brooch that Aragorn had given him openly on his cloak, but instead had it pinned inside his shirt, as from this day on, all signs of his friendship with the King must be hidden.

The Steward managed to enter the City almost unnoticed .He knew the guard on the gate and Aragorn had recently abolished the custom of sounding the trumpets when the lords of Gondor returned, except on state occasions. Together with Faramir, they had agreed it was unnecessary pomp, and often robbed the good citizens of much needed sleep.

Before anyone could notice he had returned and inform the lords on the Council, he made his way to the Barracks and enquired if Anborn and his men had returned. They had not, which only added to his worry. He then sought out Damrod.

Under the pretext of reprimanding the young Captain for a minor infringement of uniform rules, claiming his boots were not polished sufficiently. He then drew him aside and explained that a message would be delivered to him later that day summoning him to the bedside of his sick mother. He was to depart immediately, but instead make his way to Emyn Arnen and take the Queen, Eowyn and the babies to a safe hiding place and stay with them there.

"I will take them to my sister's home, she lives near Osgiliath." Damrod replied, obeying Faramir without asking questions, for he trusted his former Captain implicitly. "I fear it is not an abode fitting for the Queen or Lady Eowyn, but my sister will make them most welcome. Many of the Rangers settled there after the war and built homes after King Elessar made it safe to dwell there again. He was a good man and will be sorely missed. I will gladly do all I can for his Queen, poor lady! "

"Thank you, Damrod." Faramir said quietly, " You must tell no one and guard them with your life until I return .Get those boots polished!" he yelled for the benefit of anyone who might be listening. He then went to stables to see that Iavas was being properly tended after the long ride.

Faramir went quickly to his own apartments and bathed and changed, taking care to choose apparel that was not at all funereal in appearance .The deception had to begin as soon as possible, if there were to be any chance of saving Aragorn.

His secretary approached, carrying a sheaf of papers.

"These require your urgent attention, my lord."

"Thank you, Delos. I wish to summon the Lords of the Realm to an important meeting."

"It shall be done, my lord."

Faramir smiled cheerfully and whistled as he walked through the stone corridors of the Royal Apartments.

"My lords," he announced to the Council, the next morning. "I have informed the Queen of the late King's death, but she refused to return to me and instead has set out to perform a mourning ritual, which is the custom of her people. She has assured me that she, together with the new King, will return for the funeral, which will be held as soon as the fever epidemic abates. Until then, I propose that the Council rule Gondor with Prince Imrahil and myself in charge. We will met again in five days time."

He raised his hand to dismiss them. A collective gasp echoed round the chamber when the assembled lords saw that he was wearing the Ring of Barahir.

"You wear King Elessar's Ring!" Imrahil gasped in shock.

Faramir was unable to meet his eye as he replied, " Why should I not wear it?" he demanded belligerently "Prince Eldarion is far too young to appreciate such a valuable heirloom and the Stewards have borne the weight of Gondor's rule far longer than the heirs of Isildur. You are all dismissed."

He could only wait now until the next meeting, hoping that flaunting the Ring of Barahir so openly would cause tongues to wag carelessly enough for him to learn what had befallen his King.

He strode from the Chamber, the first to leave in order to avoid any questions especially from his Uncle .The Prince came to his apartments requesting an audience but he sent a message saying that he was indisposed. Much as he wished, that he could take his Uncle into his confidence, he knew that to do so would jeopardise his whole plan. If Imrahil's shock and disapproval were genuine, it would make it far easier to convince the other lords of his seeming treachery

He was now openly occupying the King's chambers claiming them as his own, both to underline his apparent seizure of power , and also he felt that leaving and having the doors sealed was somehow akin to abandoning Aragorn. He had searched through Aragorn's clothing as soon as he returned and found Arwen was correct. Every single pair of the King's drawers was indeed embroidered with the white tree, as were his nightshirts and undershirts.

Faramir spent the next few days mainly within his chambers as he tried to plan what to next. So far, he had learned nothing. He was sorely tempted to take a sizable troop of guards and search Lord Lamedon's mansion, but what if they saw his approach and killed Aragorn, if indeed he was being held there. Then there was the added complication that Lord Lamedon as did all his fellows, owned several residences as well as isolated hunting lodges, scattered throughout the country. It was like seeking a needle in a haystack. All Faramir could do was hope he could draw them out.

TBC

_A very grateful thank you to my readers for your comments. Each and every one is greatly appreciated_.


	11. What shall it profit a man ?

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? The Bible. Mark 8.36**

The Steward had never felt so alone in his life before. He missed Aragorn more than ever now. They had seldom been apart, except during the military campaigns against the incursions by the Southerons and Easterlings that Aragorn had successfully led.

Even when Faramir had still feared Aragorn, and before they had become close friends, he had always found the King a reassuring presence and a joy to work for. Although Aragorn set very high standards for himself and others, he had been much easier to please than Denethor and had greeted his Steward each day with a kind word or a smile.

At the times Faramir had felt at his lowest, which Aragorn seemed instinctively to know, such as the anniversary of Boromir's death, or when it had been a year to the day since Denethor had tried to burn him on his pyre, he had always reached out with some affectionate and kindly gesture, which had always eased his Steward's aching heart.

Although Faramir dealt with the paperwork and the smooth running of the realm, Aragorn made the final decisions concerning the government of Gondor and running of the Council. Just how heavy a burden that had been, Faramir was quickly learning. Ruling a country was very different than being Captain of the Ithilien Rangers or even Aragorn's Steward.

How he regretted it now, that it had taken him two years to accept Aragorn's friendship, precious years he had squandered because of his own fears, until Aragorn's patience and kindness had succeeded in breaking down the barriers.

How many times he must have hurt his King, by pushing him away, using the defensive mental barriers he had erected, and yet Aragorn had never given up trying to befriend and heal him. Now he must prove that he would not abandon Aragorn either.

The days before the next Council Meeting felt like a lifetime and Faramir both dreaded and desired it, as today he would have to speak and act more than ever in a way that was totally alien to his nature and true feelings.

For the first time since Aragorn had become King, he felt grateful to Denethor, for bringing him up to repress his emotions and hide his true feelings. Without such an upbringing, he would not have even dared to attempt such a plan.

Dressed in his most elaborate robes, he stood up in the Council Chamber and faced the assembly after the routine business had been dealt with.

He spoke confidently, though inwardly, his heart was pounding and his mouth felt like parchment.

"Now that the King is dead, my lords, I intend to see the fortunes of my House restored, after being pushed aside after more than a thousand years of loyal service! I thought I could work with Elessar but after being imprisoned at his whim and almost losing my life, my patience has worn thin!"

He hoped he was managing to sound convincing and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar, that Aragorn had encouraged him to often appear hostile in Council. They had discovered that pretending to disagree made the unruly nobles easier to control.

Few even suspected the depth of friendship, which existed between them; that was apart from Imrahil, who sat with a look of sheer horror on his face throughout Faramir's speech. He wished he could have told his Uncle what he planned to do, but Imrahil's shock and surprise had to be genuine.

"I had little choice but to appear to obey our late King as my sojourn in prison showed all too well what he is capable of! But now I assure you, things are going to be very different!" Faramir announced, with a sweeping gesture of his hand, so all could see the Ring of Barahir on his finger.

He paused as if for dramatic effect and murmurs both of approval and censure echoed round the chamber. His hearing was highly trained, after many years as a ranger, and he was certain the former were voiced by the Lords of Ringlo Vale, Lebennin, Lossarnach and Lamedon while the latter included Imrahil and the Lords of Pinnath Gellin and Anfalas though in this great echoing chamber it was impossible to be certain.

"I shall serve King Eldarion," he continued, " but I have not, as have many of you here, forgotten that the House of Hurin ruled Gondor since the days of our longfathers, not the House of Telcontar, which has ruled here but for three short years of our history! My brother, the Lord Boromir, would never have stood by and seen us relegated to the role of mere servants, and think not that I have forgotten that the only witness to his death was our late King Elessar!"

Faramir finally sat down, wiping the sweat from his brow. He waited for the impact of his words to sink in, hoping the lords would think his agitation caused by long suppressed fury, rather than the effort of speaking such foul slanders against one so dear to him.

Imrahil, white with fury, sprang to his feet. "I would have all assembled here remember," he said, "that the House of Hurin were appointed as caretakers only, to hold Gondor until the King return, as indeed he did, though sadly but for a short time. I, as have all here present, sworn a solemn oath to uphold his rule and that of his heirs, and I for one shall hold true to my word!"

"As I am sure, shall we all," Faramir replied, "But in future the Stewards will get their proper due rather than remain mere lackeys for the King! This meeting is dismissed! We meet again next week."

Muttering amongst themselves, the lords filed out of the Council Chamber. Imrahil remained behind and grabbed Faramir's arm as he turned to leave.

"How far have you forgotten yourself, nephew, to speak thus of our late King? " he demanded," I thought that he could be certain of _your_ love and loyalty, above all others, after all he did for you! I wish you could have seen him after he snatched you from the prison, as I thought his noble heart would break with anguish when he believed you were dying! You shame my house and your mother's memory by slandering the memory of such a man!"

Faramir could have wept. He yearned more than ever to tell his uncle the truth but if his plan were to succeed, secrecy was essential and Imrahil's dismay could only serve to make his act look more convincing.

"I accept your right to be angry, uncle," he said quietly," I trust you to give your loyalty to the rightful ruler of this Realm." With that somewhat ambiguous comment, he turned and left the Hall and stony faced, returned to his apartments.

Once within, he turned the key in his chamber and picked up his looking glass. The same familiar features were reflected in it, but now they no longer belonged to Faramir, loyal Steward to the King, who would not even entrap an Orc with a falsehood, but to a stranger.

He was now a traitor to his sworn liege Lord in the eyes of the world, if not in his heart. He had taken an irrevocable step, which would forever besmirch his honour. He dared not think of the consequences, only that his actions might give him a chance, however slim of saving his King.

He began to weep quietly, recalling Aragorn's many kindnesses towards him. If he were indeed dead, what must his spirit feel as it heard such false and cruel words? Faramir hoped against hope that his and Arwen's instincts were correct.

He summoned a servant and ordered that the large sunken bath be filled, hoping he would feel less tainted if he were to bathe. He tore off his clothes almost in a frenzy and climbed into the water and scrubbed himself so vigorously that his skin felt raw.

It brought him no relief though, for his mind was filled with images of the times Aragorn had shared that tub with him and treated his scars with such compassion. Who could have foreseen that a dawn would dawn when he would denounce him?

A sudden stab of excruciating pain hit him, this time in the belly. He glanced down and perceived a red mark, which faded even as he gazed at it. This was now the fifth time this had happened adding physical pain to the constant mental anguish we was suffering.

The nightmares had been getting worse too, sometimes they occurring two or three times each night. It was always the same, he would see Aragorn crying out to him for aid and then just as he reached out to him, he would awaken, shaking and sweating and often with either his back or ribs aching.

He was almost certain now that these were visions. Aragorn was in torment and needed him to help him, but how could he save his King, as he had no idea where he was, if indeed he still lived?

Faramir wondered just how long he would have to wait and play a part so distasteful to him. Adding to his worries was the fact, that neither Anborn, nor the rest of the Escort he had taken with him on the day he went to see the Queen, had had been seen again since that day.

He wondered if there were any way he could place spies in the households of the lords he suspected of treason, but dismissed the idea as too dangerous. The fewer who knew of his plan, the better its chance of success.

A few weeks passed, with Faramir struggling but somehow managing to play his part in the web of treason he was now entangled in. He found it helped by remembering what his father would have done in any given situation and acting likewise, so he became much more haughty and demanding towards his servants, and tried to act like a Ruling Steward should, when petitions were brought to him to be heard.

He deferred as many verdicts as possible, citing the fever epidemic as the reason. The exceptions were some instances of trespassing, where the offenders could not be found, which allowed him to appear to side with the nobles rather than the King over harsh penalties for gathering firewood and taking a rabbit for the pot, without actually punishing anyone who had done so.

He spent much of his time working and appearing in public as much as possible. He sensed the disapproval of many of those around him, though others treated him with a newfound respect, which made him wonder was even his own household full of spies and traitors? He was desperately lonely for Aragorn and for his wife and child, though it was a source of comfort that at least his family were safe.

He had not dared to seek out Damrod but one day had bumped into the young captain who had told him that' the parcels were safely delivered' which raised his spirits.

The day of the next Council Meeting dawned. Again, Faramir took every opportunity to slander Aragorn and complain how badly his family had been treated. For a man who hated speaking falsehoods, every false accusation was still a torment for him.

He observed some of the lords agreeing with his every word, which could either be an indication of their true sympathies or an attempt to curry his favour.

Lord Lamedon again brought up the suggestion that Eldarion should marry Elbeth, which Faramir pretended to view more favourably than Aragorn had, but deferred reaching a decision, by quite correctly informing him that the Queen was now Eldarion's guardian and such decisions lay with her when she emerged from the Elven Mourning Ritual.

"And how long might that take?" Lord Lamedon asked sneeringly.

"Several weeks at least but who knows what the Elven witch will decide!" Faramir replied, provoking gasps at his insult of the Queen. "However, I shall see that Eldarion will not drink in her influence with his mother's milk! Elessar was no more than her lapdog, though praise the Valar I am no longer his!"

Imrahil then sprang to his feet and roared, " How can you slander our Queen and our late King so, when he is not even yet laid in his tomb, and after he treated you with so much honour?"

"You seem to forget, my lord that the late King made me walk through the streets clad only in sackcloth and had me wrongfully imprisoned to please his best friend! " Faramir replied coldly.

Devorin of Ringlo Vale, Fontos of Lossarnach and Fosco of Lamedon all nodded approvingly.

"You bring shame on the name of your family!" Imrahil blazed," I am glad that my poor sister did not live to this day! You are no longer my nephew! I disown you!"

TBC

_A/N_

_Many grateful thanks for all your kind reviews. Each and every one is gratefully appreciated and I am thrilled to have passed the 200 mark with my last chapter._

_I am grateful for your pointing out any errors you notice and for your suggestions, which I often use to enrich the plot._

_I assure my readers that I miss Aragorn every bit as much as they do._

_I am pleased one of my readers remarked on the possible damage to Faramir's soul as that is a key theme of this story._


	12. Bait of Falsehood

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth,  
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,  
With windlasses and with assays of bias,  
By indirections find directions out.**

**William Shakespeare (1564–1616 Hamlet, act 2, sc. 1**

For a moment, Faramir's carefully maintained composure was shaken and he had to look away. How he wished he could have taken Imrahil into his confidence!

The Steward struggled to appear equally furious, though his heart was breaking. He had loved his uncle dearly for as long as he could remember. He swallowed hard then replied coldly, "Be glad that we are blood kindred, Prince Imrahil, or you would be shorter by a head ere morning!"

"You are no kindred of mine!" Imrahil retorted and swept from the Council chamber without a second glance.

Faramir nodded to the guards to permit him to leave before announcing the session was over and dismissing them all. He carefully noted which of them looked shocked and which looked gleeful at the exchange.

How he hated politics now! He had welcomed the chance to serve Gondor before and had grown to actively enjoy the ruses that he and Aragorn employed against the obstinate Council. Now, he was being dragged into a maelstrom of corruption and hated every moment of it.

It seemed too, that it was all for nothing, as he was still none the wiser about what had befallen the King. He had thrown away his honour and his reputation in a gamble that appeared to have failed.

He returned to his apartments and ordered that the bath be filled. He had taken to bathing twice daily and also after Sessions of the Council. Today, though he scrubbed himself so hard that it broke his skin in places, he felt no better. He could hear his Uncle's voice disowning him still echoing in his head.

Alone in his study, he pondered what else he could do. For the first time, he wondered if he should have asked Aragorn to instruct him to use the palantir. He knew it was safe now that Sauron was defeated, but after seeing what it had done to his father, he had shuddered at the very thought of even touching the seeing stone. Even Aragorn had only ever used it sparingly, being loath to spy on his people and had limited its use to seeing how his friends in the Shire fared.

The Steward was desperate enough now, to break his vow never to meddle with the thing. Taking a deep breath, he went to the room where it was kept and with trembling hands, removed the cover.

Hesitantly, he placed his hands on either side of the stone. To his surprise, it felt no different than any other crystal he had touched, cold to the hands and producing a slight tingling sensation.

Suddenly the tingling grew stronger and he resisted the overwhelming urge to let go and flee the room. A vortex of light and colour appeared in the opaque globe. Frantically, Faramir tried to focus his thoughts and concentrate on Aragorn's whereabouts yet however hard he tried, he could see nothing but jumbled images and colours, which made his head swim and throb.

He could have wept with misery and frustration. Again, he had sacrificed an ideal for nothing ! Maybe the stone would only respond to the King, as he was no longer Ruling Steward? On the other hand, it could be because he knew nothing of the arts of using it. His father would never have shown him, as he was not the heir and he had felt no inclination to ask Aragorn.

He felt so alone. His trusted rangers were mostly in Ithilien and he dared not risk talking to Damrod's again. No trace had been found of Anborn and his escort and he feared he had sent them to their deaths to protect him. It was not a pleasant thought.

He covered the palantir again, locked the door and returned to his study to nurse his aching head and even more painful soul. He was trying to make himself eat some lunch, for which he had no appetite, when his Secretary, Delos, knocked and asked if he might speak with him.

Sighing, Faramir bade him enter; for some instinctive reason he disliked the man, though as he was an efficient and hard worker, he could find no logical reason to dismiss him.He had never quite trusted him since he had sent Eowyn's ill fated letter to her brother,though it seemed an unreasonable suspicion as it had been sealed and it could not have known its contents.

He felt him to be obsequious in his manner, as he always seemed to imply that Faramir was somehow ill used, an attitude which had begun during Faramir's long recovery from his time in prison and had not subsequently changed but rather increased.

"I have a message from Lord Lamedon," he told Faramir, "His lordship bids you to visit his country mansion and experience his hospitality. His servant is waiting for your reply."

Faramir remained outwardly calm, though inwardly his heart leapt. Perhaps his uncle's very public denunciation of his conduct had served to make the rebels trust him? Maybe, he would at last, gain some clue as to what had really happened to Aragorn?

"His lordship is holding a house party at his country estate and will send a servant to escort you there in three days time, if you accept the invitation" Delos continued, "He says there is no need for you to trouble to take any servants with you as his lordship will provide you with whatever staff you need."

"Tell his lordship that I accept," Faramir replied with what was perhaps indecent haste.

"Very good, my lord, I will deliver the message." Delos replied, looking far more pleased than the occasion warranted.

"I am eager to become better acquainted with Lord Lamedon, as his lordship's friendship is greatly to be desired." Faramir added for good measure, suspecting more than ever that traitors to the King existed even within his own household.

As soon as his Secretary had left, he locked his study door and took out a detailed map showing the land ownership in Gondor. It showed that Lord Lamedon's Country Estate was several hours ride from Minas Tirith, and comprised a sizable manor house as well as a variety of small hunting lodges and cottages for the servants to live in.

Faramir sighed, he had thought of requesting a troop of guards to follow him at a distance and then ordering them to storm the building if he found the King, but there were just too many locations where Aragorn might be held. To further complicate matters, Lord Lamedon's retreat was surrounded by properties owned by the Lords of Lossarnach, Ringlo Vale and Lebennin. The wealth and influence of these nobles was considerable, as they held their own Fiefdoms guarded by men loyal to them, as well as these country estates and town mansions too.

There was no means by which, Faramir could have every property searched before any resistance could be orchestrated, or Aragorn killed or moved elsewhere. If only there were someone, he could turn to for aid? But there was none he could think of.

He dared not involve Imrahil as he was needed to keep safe the City, nor would he willingly endanger him. It was too far a distance to summon aid from the North where loyalty to Aragorn was strongest. Legolas and Gimli were travelling presumably inEryn Lasgalen but they could be anywhere. Then even if Eomer could be summoned in time, using foreign troops against Lords of Gondor could provoke a bloody civil war. He had long debated this point and even wondered if Eomer would suddenly arrive, if news of Aragorn's death somehow reached him. The usual messages to Rohan had been suspended at the King's command because of the fever epidemic.

He would have to go alone, and if he could find Aragorn, rescue him unaided. That plan might work if the King were able to ride, but even that seemed unlikely if the pains Faramir had been suffering truly reflected Aragorn's. Even if his lord were not being tortured, he would most likely have been injured when captured. Otherwise, the rebels would never have succeeded in overpowering so mighty a warrior.

Faramir frowned again and then his features relaxed when he remembered his days of active service in the Army. His rangers had worked by stealth, rather than brute force and endeavoured to remain invisible to the enemy, which often meant hiding out in caves.

Most of those Faramir had stayed in, were in Ithilien, but similar networks of caves were scattered throughout the country, unknown to most. As both a ranger, and son of the last Ruling Steward, he was aware of all the locations .If he recalled rightly, there was a large and well concealed cave network just outside the boundaries of the lands owned by the suspect lords, which would be well within riding distance even with a wounded man.

Ignoring his still aching head, Faramir began to make a plan. He would collect supplies of food, bedding, clothing and medicines then ride out with them in the dead of night, conceal them within the caves, and make his way back to the Citadel before daybreak .As it was winter, there were many hours of darkness to provide cover, though it was going to be difficult with so many guards and servants to get past them all without being detected.

Though the City gates were locked at night; that was no obstacle for one brought up amongst the ruling elite of Minas Tirith. He had known of secret routes since childhood and to make matters even easier, ever since the war, horses when not required, were moved to more spacious stables with a large field just outside the gates. There would be a watchman but he could be dealt with. Iavas was stabled within the city but he could find another horse to ride.

He would at the same time, turn Roheryn loose, hoping he would know to follow him and wait in the vicinity of the caves. Even if he did not, it seemed kindest to free him as he pined greatly for his master if the servants were to be believed. He had not dared visit him, in case that gave away where his true loyalties lay.

He was just compiling a mental list of what he needed, when a servant knocked on his door and announced that the Warden of the Houses of Healing was waiting to see him.

Annoyed at the interruption, Faramir nevertheless decided to see what the healer wanted, as he was as stubborn as Ioreth when it came to getting his own way. The Steward often wondered if that was a trait taught to apprentices in the Houses of Healing or just something healers acquired over the years.

"How may I help you, Master Tarostar?" Faramir asked, once the healer was shown into his study.

"I think the question is, how may I help _you_, Lord Faramir," Tarostar replied. "Your Uncle called at the Houses of Healing on his way home from a meeting of the Council and told me he was worried about you and asked me to attend you."

Faramir wondered what it was about healers, which made them so forward in their manner. With this particular one, he was at an especial disadvantage as he was a cousin and considered himself as one of Faramir's elders and betters.

"I am well. My uncle has no cause for concern." Faramir replied, trying to meet the keen grey eyes undimmed by age .a mark of their kinship, as only those of Numenorean lineage were still so hale at past seventy years of age, though it was rare nowadays for anyone in Gondor to live to be more than a hundred.

His history was a tragic one, as Denethor's much older sister had fallen in love with one of the Citadel Guards and eloped with him while still underage. The furious Ecthelion had disinherited her and the marriage pronounced null and void but too late to avoid tragedy. The young would be bride was already with child and had died eight months later giving birth to a healthy son.

Bereft of both parents as his father was now in prison, the baby had been named Tarostar and raised by the Warden of the Houses of Healing and had grown up to follow his trade. Despite their kinship never being officially acknowledged, he had been appointed as one of the personal Healers to Denethor and his sons and was held in high esteem.

"I think some fresh air would benefit your lordship's health." Tarostar suggested, taking Faramir's pulse, despite his efforts to pull his hand away.

"I told you, I am quite well." Faramir insisted irately.

"I think not, your pulse is racing. I believe you have an infection of the ears. A walk in the gardens will be beneficial. As your personal physician I order it!" Tarostar replied in a tone that brokered no argument, raising a finger to his lips before the Steward could question the cryptic comment.

Faramir sighed and called for a servant to fetch his cloak before allowing the elderly healer to shepherd him outside.

"I really do not have the time for this!" he protested, as they made their way under an arch of leafless trees. "And I have not appointed you or anyone else as my personal healer!"

"I know that as our beloved late King always tended you, which seems curious now, given what your uncle has told me." Tarostar said calmly as they walked along a cheerless path. In a few weeks time, the garden would burst into life again with the spring blossom, but now it was dreary and barren apart from a few holly bushes and conifers.

Faramir stiffened slightly at the comment before demanding, "Why have you brought me out here? There is nothing wrong with my ears!"

"Nor with the ears of those who might overhear us indoors!" Tarostar replied, "Your uncle came to see me and told me that he fears you have lost your wits .He says you denounce the late King at every opportunity and slander his good name!"

"I detested him, I am glad he is dead!" Faramir said wildly, hating himself for having to repeat the cruel lies yet again

"I find that very hard to believe as although the mouth can lie, the heart cannot. When you collapsed on seeing the corpse in the Houses of Healing, your grief was genuine. I feared you were going to have a heart attack, so great was your anguish. I know you loved him as much as he did you. You were as a loving father and son together! Now your Uncle tells me you claim to have feigned that affection! Either grief has driven you mad, which I doubt though you are obviously unwell, or there is more here than meets the eye!"

TBC

A/N

_A very big thank you to everyone for your kind reviews, excellent suggestions and comments and also for pointing out any errors._

_Denethor did have two older sisters but Tarostar is entirely the creation of my imagination._

_I hope today's chapter will explain some of the comments and questions raised._

_Arwen, Eowyn and the babies need to stay in hiding in case the rebels harm them. Both babies are dependent on their mothers' milk and cannot be left._


	13. Love all, trust a few,

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

**Love all, trust a few,  
Do wrong to none.**

**William Shakespeare (1564–1616), All's Well That Ends Well, act 1, sc. 1. **

"And what is that to you?" Faramir sounded harsh and defensive. Yet, he yearned to share the truth with someone who could be trusted. Tarostar was close kin to his family and might be expected to support any move to return them to power .Yet, it had been obvious that he had struggled to maintain a professional calm on seeing the mulitatedcorpse, which suggested to Faramir that he had cared deeply for Aragorn too.

"The good of Gondor is my concern. And how can Gondor thrive if her King is dead and her Steward has lost his wits, when Prince Eldarion is but a babe in arms?"

"I am as sane as you, Master Tarostar," Faramir replied firmly. "Surely you can see that? Alas, that the Prince is not yet of age!" They had reached a holly bush and the thorny leaves snagged Faramir's cloak, imprisoning him in its web of branches.

Tarostar helped him free himself and then caught his wrist. "Does a sane man denounce one who treated him with great honour and kindness?"

"He stole my birthright!" Faramir protested, not looking the healer in the eye.

"Repeat after me then,'King Elessar was a tyrant who brought misfortune to Gondor', 'The return of the King was a blessing from the Valar '!"

His patience starting to wear thin, Faramir repeated the words.

"You did not hate him," Tarostar pronounced, releasing his hand. "You will never convince me otherwise!"

"You dare to accuse me of speaking falsehoods?" Faramir's fury was against his own inability to convince, rather than over what wasan acute observation.

"I told you the heart cannot lie," Tarostar said gravely," I noticed how your pulse raced when you spoke against him yet remained steady, when I told you to say that which you truly believed. Much as it grieves me to say so, Lord Faramir, King Elessar treated me far better than your house ever did! My father died in prison for no greater crime than that of having fallen in love and I was pronounced illegitimate. King Elessar had become a friend to me, through his helping to care for the sick here He never treated me as being of lesser birth than had my parent's marriage been recognised by your grandfather."

They had reached the end of the path and Faramir found himself pacing the lawn as he debated whether or not to confide in Tarostar. He was sorely tempted to after the strain of weeks of silence. Nevertheless, could he dare to take such a risk? Yet, the Healer was bound by an oath of confidentiality in his dealings with his patients and had never once been known to break it. In addition, he was not involved in the complicated politics of the Council, as it would affect him very little who ruled Gondor. Healers would always be needed whether kings or stewards ruled and he had shown only respect rather than resentment, for Aragorn's superior healing abilities."

"Tell me," asked Faramir, "Are the Lords of Lamedon, Lossarnach and Ringlo Vale amongst your patients?"

Tarostar shook his head, "No, I know of them only by sight. Men such as they, despise me for my birth. Though, were they my patients, I could not discuss them with you as my oath would forbid it."

"If I were to tell you what I believe, do I have your sworn oath that you will tell no other including my uncle?"

"I swear it and may I be forever without honour should I break my word!"

Faramir reached a decision. "Then tell me, would you think it proof that I had lost my wits, if I were to say that I believe our King might yet live?"

Tarostar started slightly, then collected himself and thoughtfully stroked his grey beard. "You saw the body and the tokens it bore, one of which, I see you now wearing," he replied, looking meaningfully at the ring on Faramir's finger. "Yet, had it not been for those same tokens, it could have been any poor wretch that had been dragged from the river, so no, I would not think you mad. Grief though, can make us believe what we want to, rather than what is actually true, much as we would both like to believe that he yet lives!"

Faramir took a deep breath and decided to trust his companion. "King Elessar shared a Thought Bond with both his Queen and me," he began, "I did not know what would happen if that were broken, but the Queen told me I would feel as if my soul were torn asunder. As that has happened to neither of us, she believes and I dare hope that the King still lives. Also we both dream nightly that he is calling for help."

Tarostar listened intently, his head cocked to one side, "That is indeed the effect of thought bonds, as I have experienced them personally." he told Faramir, somewhat to the Steward's surprise. "However it does not always affect the survivor too badly, it depends on the closeness they had before death."

"We shared thoughts the night before he disappeared and I held him, as he was distressed over the death of a baby boy." Faramir admitted, reluctant to let any other than Arwen know how distraught Aragorn had been.

Tarostar's eyes widened, "Then your bond would be exceptionally strong, you could be right! " he admitted, " I remember that night all too well, as I had hesitated to summon the King sooner as I could see how much the healing drained him. Afterwards I wished I had done for maybe then the baby would have survived. So what do you propose to do about your suspicions?"

" I plan to go and seek my King!" Faramir replied, his voice now afire with conviction" I fear I have upset my uncle greatly these past weeks as I have been pretending to be in sympathy those I believe may be holding him. One of them has invited me to visit him. I go in the hope of finding my King's whereabouts and bringing him safe home. I am planning to ride out tonight to store supplies in a nearby cave in case he is wounded and we need to take shelter for a time, if only I can slip out undetected!"

Tarostar regarded him with a mixture of alarm and awe, "You are taking great risks, Lord Faramir," he said," I suppose I should counsel you against such a reckless action. Yet, for such an exceptional man as the King, I understand why you must. As for slipping out undetected, I believe I can help you. It is my professional advice that you be admitted to the Houses of Healing at once to treat your earache!"

"What?" Faramir exclaimed, alarmed that he had misjudged his ability to see into the hearts of men, "I am not ill, I told you there is nothing wrong with my ears!"

"But your walls may have many ears that ache to catch you unawares! You can leave the Houses of Healing undetected much more easily than your apartments, especially if I am watching over you!" Tarostar smiled, "Now go and pack what clothing you need. I can provide bedding and healing supplies."

Faramir found himself blinking back a tear of gratitude. It was good no longer to be alone in his undertaking.

An hour later, Faramir left his apartments. He was accompanied by Tarostar and rubbing his ear and groaning softly as he leaned against the healer's arm for support. A servant from the Houses of Healing had been summoned to carry his bulging bags, which contained a mixture of his own, and Aragorn's clothing.

"Does your lordship require me to cancel the invitation from Lord Lamedon?" Delos enquired a trifle too anxiously, as they reached the door.

"You should have more faith in me, my good man!" Tarostar said breezily, "After a day of rest and treatments, I am certain Lord Faramir will be quite recovered .I have only suggested he brings plenty of clothing just in case he requires surgery and a lengthy stay, but do not cancel the invitation just yet!"

Faramir, now clad in a nightshirt, found himself tucked up in bed in the Houses of Healing soon afterwards. He was housed in the same comfortable private room that he had been taken to on the day the body was discovered.

A bandage was wound round his head to emphasise his supposed ear problem and a variety of Healers buzzed in and out, asking endless questions. Apart from one taking his pulse, none had attempted to examine him as he was under the Warden's personal care.

Being in this position, make Faramir all the more painfully aware of how fortunate he had been to have had the gentle and considerate Aragorn to take care of him. The endless questions made him certain his earache, or a headache at the least would soon no longer be a charade.

After a while, Tarostar came to him and told him he needed to get some sleep.

"But I am not ill!" Faramir protested.

"No, but you soon will be, if you intend to undertake a gruelling journey without rest!" Tarostar said firmly, "I shall pack all the bedding and healing supplies you need, bandages, herbs, salves, splints a needle to stitch wounds and a small sharp knife. I have labelled all the herbs and salves with their dosage and what they should be used for."

Faramir paled at the mention of some of these items, hoping he would not need to use them.

Tarostar, accustomed to this reaction in novices, merely said gently, "He could be badly injured. I fear to confine a man such as King Elessar would take considerable force. How much knowledge of tending the sick and wounded do you have?"

"Only a little, I fear, though I have observed both my wife and Damrod treating a variety of hurts and assisted them."

" I fear that will have to suffice, for I dare not send a Healer with you. They would quickly be missed and it would also place them in grave danger." Tarostar said regretfully.

"Will you give me your word, you will tell none of my plans unless I have not returned in three months time? I would not endanger my uncle nor risk my plan being uncovered should I be lost. "

"Three months is too long!" Tarostar protested, "What if you are captured and in need of help?"

"It could take a while to win Lord Lamedon's trust. Then I need time to escape with the King and take him to a place of safety. Those I suspect, have far reaching tentacles. They must not know they are suspected until I have found a means to uproot them. Should I not return, or the Queen and Prince Eldarion be brought to Minas Tirith I beg you to send word to King Eomer of Rohan."

"Very well," said Tarostar reluctantly.

"There is one more thing, I must ask you, Master Tarostar, how much poppy juice would it take to kill a man?"

_TBC_

_A big thank you to all my readers for your reviews and helpful comments. You are greatly appreciated. A special thank you to Demeter d for her suggestion regarding the palantir._

_Faramir dare not let Imrahil know for fear of the rebels suspecting that he suspects them !_

_I do not know yet what happened to Anborn and his men._

_I think Faramir is far too agitated to master the palantir at present. _


	14. For deepest Woe, for utmost Grief

**Für Weh und Wunden  
gab sie Balsam,  
für böse Gifte  
Gegengift.  
Für tiefstes Weh,  
für höchstes Leid  
gab sie den Todestrank.**

**  
(For woes and wounds, she gave me salves, for evil poisons, antidotes, for deepest woe, for utmost grief, she gave me the drink of death.) Wagner – Tristan and Isolde**

Tarostar frowned; "Why do you ask such a question?" he enquired. "The aim is to ease pain, not kill. I would not abet treason against our liege lord whatever the reason!"

"I would never harm the King! How could you believe thus of me? However, what if I should be unmasked and put to torment? I hope I would have the strength to endure it, but what if I were somehow forced to betray the whereabouts of the Queen and my own wife and child ? I need a means to ensure that does not happen! Maybe you have something more potent than the juice of poppies?"

"Do not ask such a thing!" Tarostar chided, "You are of pure enough Numenorean lineage to give back the Gift should dire need drive you to it. We keep no poisons here!"

"It could take hours to give up my own life, by which time, the Queen, the Crown Prince and my own wife and child could have been sent to their deaths by my weakness! If you would aid me, kinsman, I beg of you to provide me with something to ensure their safety!"

"I will return." Tarostar turned and left the room without another word.

Faramir sighed, it seemed that he had offended his only available ally. Or worse still, had he made a mistake in trusting him? Yet, his insight had told him that Tarostar was loyal to the King.

The more he thought now about his plan, the less likely it seemed to succeed. Pretending to be a traitor, discovering the King's whereabouts and rescuing him all without being caught, seemed a very difficult, if not impossible aim to achieve.

Maybe he should just try to discover the King's whereabouts then make his escape and return with soldiers, but by then would Aragorn have again disappeared?

On the other hand, maybe he could just leave at the end of his visit and then rescue Aragorn later, or would they then move him or would they even let him leave? He _was _developing a headache now! The only thing he was certain of was that he would gladly give his life for his King. Aragorn would have done no less.

A few minutes later, Tarostar returned clutching a vial in his hand. "The oaths I took, when I became a healer, prevent me from giving you anything to take your life with." he said, "But this should suffice as well or better. Though whether it might be more lethal as any opiate I cannot say."

"What is it?" asked Faramir, intrigued.

"Spider venom. Thinking of your ability to return the Gift, which you could utilise if anything went wrong and you were buried alive, made me think of it!" Tarostar told him.

"Like Shelob used on the Ring bearer?" Faramir enquired, trying to dismiss the terrifying images that the mention of being buried alive conjured up.

"Yes, but with no permanent effects like her sting, or so I am told." Tarostar explained, "This came from what was then Mirkwood ,just after the war . Prince Legolas brought it some time ago, as he was thinking on developing a weapon, which would incapacitate rather than kill the enemy. A dart coated with this would render the victim completely immobile for many hours and they would appear lifeless to any save the most skilled of healers. That is the theory; but whether the paralysis would wear off on its own as it does when these spiders strike their victims, or whether it would permanently maim or kill, I do not know. I was going to research it, but the fever epidemic has left me no time. However, think carefully, I beg you, Lord Faramir, you could be risking your life on a fool's errand .If Gondor has lost her King she has even more need of her Steward! Do not risk using it, save in the direst need! Are you certain you wish to take such a risk?"

Faramir reached out his hand for the vial, "I will take it Master Tarostar and I thank you," he said, "I have already seemingly betrayed by King, but in reality would gladly risk death a thousand times if I had only the smallest chance to save him!"

Tarostar nodded his head resignedly. " Take it then, you would have to use it by coating a needle with a very tiny amount and piercing the skin. I beg of you though, do not use it unless there is no other way to spare innocent lives!

"You have my word," Faramir said gravely, looking the healer in the eye as he spoke.

"Very well then," Tarostar sighed." I advise you to try to sleep until nightfall, Lord Faramir. I will come for you then. There are secret ways to leave the city from here as well as from your apartments! They are not too dusty either, as we prepared them in case we had to leave in a hurry during the Ring War. Well, I must return to those who need me. There have been six new fever cases today already!"

Faramir sank back against the pillows then suddenly sat bolt upright again. "Weapons and tack for the horses!" he groaned, I forgot to pack any! I can take my sword and a concealed dagger or two to Lord Lamedon's but hardly a bow!"

Tarostar laughed, "We have a store of weapons and tack here as well as healing herbs! Living under the shadow of Mordor for so long, has made us prepared for anything! My wife and children even kept their valuables here during the War! I will place a bow with the other supplies."

Faramir managed to smile at him," You are full of surprises, Master Healer!" he said, lying back to pretend to rest in order to placate Tarostar .To his surprise, he quickly fell asleep.

He dreamed again of Aragorn, the same nightmare in which the King was calling his name and woke after only a few hours with an excruciating pain in his arm, just under the elbow.

He bit his lip, not wanting any of the healers to probe and prod him .The now familiar red mark blemished his skin, which faded even as he looked.

He dozed again but was still tormented by nightmares .He was relieved when Tarostar roused him a few hours later.

"What time is it?" he whispered.

"Almost midnight and you, my lord, should be asleep with a nasty ear infection like that!" he said loudly enough for any passers by to hear, before adding in an undertone. "Get dressed now and go quickly, Aedred is waiting to show you where the tunnel is. You can trust him as he is not involved with Gondorian politics and is very loyal to his King and to yours too. I will place a pillow in your bed to make it look as if you are still asleep. In the morning, I will make it known that I have given you a sleeping draught and you are not to be disturbed. Try to be back by dawn as you look in need of further rest! Here are the herbs you wanted, keep them safe! Do you have the venom? Aedred has the rest of the supplies."

Faramir nodded as sat on the side of the bed and pulled on his breeches under his nightshirt. He truly hated dressing or undressing in front of anyone else, and most especially healers, after the pain, they had caused him in the past, apart from Aragorn. Then he was all too aware, that his constant washing and scrubbing had left his skin red and raw, especially across his chest. He decided to pull on his tunic over the nightshirt and ignore the bulkiness of the garment.

Tarostar coughed pointedly, "I need that nightshirt to dress the pillow in!" he said.

Sighing, Faramir picked up his shirt, and with his back to Tarostar, pulled off the nightshirt, and swiftly donned his shirt and a thick woollen tunic over the top.

"How strange!" Even whispering, the surprise in the Healer's voice was tangible.

"What is?" Faramir whispered in reply.

"Your back!"

"There is no more wrong with my back than my ears!" the Steward retorted.

"You were heavily scarred, I have never seen scars heal so well, as there only seems to be some redness there now! I did not get a very good look though, if I may on the morrow?"

Faramir groaned, he had spent years trying to avoid letting anyone see the scars on his back given the unwelcome attention they attracted especially from Healers. Now it seemed that the lack of scars produced an identical result! Then he did not intend to reveal the raw patches, which now disfigured his body.

"The King gave me an Elven remedy and there is nothing to see!" he whispered with a tone of finality, which brokered no argument, as he remembered some painful treatment sessions with Tarostar in the past. Despite being one of the most skilled Healers in Gondor, his methods had seemed both painful and primitive compared with Aragorn's Elven skills.

Tarostar gave a low chuckle. "The means by which he persuaded you to try it would be even more interesting to hear about than the treatment. I seem to recall you shunned all the salves I gave you!"

"They stung like fire!" Faramir informed him, pulling on his boots. "I am ready now!" he said.

"Drink your sleeping draught quickly! I bid you a peaceful night, Lord Faramir!" the Healer said loudly, then to the Steward's surprise opened a door at the far side of the room, which he had assumed led to a storage chamber.

"Through there!" Tarostar whispered, handing him his bundle, "May the Valar go with you!" He pressed a panel, just inside what appeared to be a closet for mops and brooms, to reveal a passageway, where Aedred was waiting, his arms full of supplies.More bundles were at his feet.

"That is why we always accommodate members of the ruling family in this room in case they need to escape quickly!" Tarostar explained as the door swung closed behind him.

Torches, fastened by sconces to the wall, lighted the passageway, which Aedred had obviously made ready. He beckoned Faramir to pick up the bundles andfollow.He led the Steward though a narrow winding passageway carved out of solid rock, which sloped sharply downwards, as they descended the City via the secret route, which must have been as ancient as Minas Tirith herself.

TBC

_A/N A Very grateful thank you to all my reviewers for your kind comments, suggestions and for pointing out any errors which I have now corrected. It is wonderful to see my readers of previous stories still with me and to welcome new readers too. _

_I think the healers are somewhat in awe of Aragorn's skills and respect them._

_All will be revealed eventually why Aragorn is being kept alive (if indeed he is!), whether it helped or not to confide in Tarostar and why and if Faramir needs plenty of time to attempt his rescue._


	15. Borrower of the Night

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**I must become a borrower of the night  
For a dark hour or twain.**

**_Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 1 _Shakespeare**

To Faramir's relief, the air inside felt quite fresh .He was accustomed to caves but this passage was narrower and steeper than any naturally occurring phenomena.

Aedred seemed familiar with the rocky passage and every now and then softly warned his companion to be careful where the passage narrowed or the floor became uneven underfoot.

Faramir became steadily colder, as the clinging damp seemed to penetrate within his garments. He wished he had thought to put on an extra tunic but it was too late now. He had long since forgotten which of the bulky parcels they were carrying contained clothing.

They stopped at regular intervals to rest and lay down their heavy bundles of supplies, not daring to exchange more than a brief word, lest any outside should hear. It was impossible to tell where they were, save winding steadily downhill.

Faramir felt grateful for Aedred's company, though. He was all too aware that one slip within such a passageway could lead to it becoming his tomb as no one would ever hear a shout for help, or even if by some remote chance they did, they would not know where it was coming from.

He hardly knew Aedred though he was aware that he had helped Aragorn care for him after he was beaten in prison and that Aragorn thought highly of him, as did Eomer, who had appointed him his personal Healer whenever he was visiting Gondor.

After walking for what felt like hours, they emerged just outside the City, not far from the field and outhouses where the horses were stabled. The horses had shelter but had not been confined inside since a tragic incident where several had perished in a fire, unable to flee their stable.

Faramir paused and took a deep breath of the cold night air. "What a convenient place to emerge!" he exclaimed.

Beside him, Aedred chuckled softly. "Those who built it obviously knew what they were doing!"

The watchman could be seen patrolling the field, a lantern in his hand. Horse thieves were a constant problem, especially during a hard winter. A good horse could fetch a sufficient price to buy adequate provisions to last until the warmer weather.

"I will have to creep up behind him and stun him!" Faramir whispered," Will you see that he is tended once I have left?" Such brutality was alien to his nature, yet it seemed that he could not afford his ideals until he had either rescued Aragorn or secured his son on the throne.

"Shame on you, Lord Faramir!" Aedred hissed, " I know of a better way!"

The Rohirric Healer, put his thumbs to his lips and gave a whistle, which sounded like a horse neighing.

As if by magic, the horses appeared out of their shelter and rushed towards the gate.

"Open the gate while the watchman is distracted!" Aedred ordered.

Silent as a cat, Faramir did as he was bidden. Fortunately, there was no moon that night, though the stars provided a faint light. Long years as a ranger had taught him how to operate under cover of virtual darkness.

While he swiftly and almost silently unlatched the gate, Faramir could hear the watchman shouting to the horses from the far side of the field. He could only hope Roheryn would sense he was nearby and come to him, but was uncertain of the stallion's reaction since he was not his master.

He hastened back to where Aedred was waiting, standing well clear of the escaping horses.

"A little trick of the Horse Lords!" Aedred whispered, " My father was Master of the King's Horses and taught me a few skills in my youth!"

"I am surprised you chose to be a healer then!" Faramir commented.

Aedred chuckled softly, "Do not tell Eomer King, but I am afraid of horses! I fell off one and broke my collar bone when I was a young lad and have been wary ever since of any save the gentlest and quietest of mounts!"

"I never thought to hear a native of Rohan say that!" Faramir chuckled before exclaiming in dismay, "Oh, no, I forgot about tack!"

"A good job you are with a man of Rohan then!" Aedred replied, his smile audible, "I have hidden what you need under the hedge!"

"May the Valar smile on you!" Faramir said thankfully.

A gentle whinnying at Faramir's side made him start. He turned round and realised that Roheryn was beside him, eying him expectantly. He reached into his pocket for an apple he had thought to bring for him. The stallion eagerly munched the treat and permitted Faramir to saddle him and fix two bulging bags to the saddle.

Meanwhile Aedred whistled again, this time on a different note. A single, heavily built horse ambled away from the others and joined them. The healer had also brought a juicy apple.

"This is Hjordnis," he said, "I rode here from Rohan on her back, but as I take little pleasure in riding I gave her to the Houses of Healing as a packhorse. Let her go with you too, as I can account for her absence if need be. I still ride her if I need to travel or if any of my friends need a steady horse. She likes company so would not stray if you left her somewhere with Roheryn." He began to load the supplies on the horse as he spoke.

Hjordnis snorted but otherwise made no complaint and the task was swiftly accomplished.

The watchman was still shouting vainly for the horses to come back but was fast approaching the hedge, which concealed Faramir and his companion.

"I think that is everything," Aedred said, fastening the last bundle in place.

"Thank you so much and thank Master Tarostar too!"

To Aedred's surprise, Faramir grasped both his shoulders and kissed him on the brow in the traditional Gondorian gesture of parting used between friends and kin.

"Go quickly now, I can hear the watchman coming!"

Faramir mounted Roheryn gingerly, wondering if he would accept any save Aragorn on his back. Apart from whinnying as if surprised, the proud stallion made no objection. With Hjordnis on a leading rein alongside, he urged Roheryn forward into the night.

Aedred made his way back the way he had come, the enraged shouts of the watchman as he rounded up the straying horses on the lane, ringing in his ears.

Apart from mistaking the trail in one place and going a mile or so in the wrong direction, before realising his mistake from the position of the stars, Faramir's journey to where the map showed the caves to be, was uneventful.

The cave entrance proved somewhat harder to find .He needed to light a lamp that Aedred had thoughtfully provided and search the face of the hillside until he found it. It was concealed behind a large thorn bush, which he assumed had been planted there on his father or grandfather's orders. These caves had been a vital part of the defence against Sauron, as they allowed troops to remain hidden while they fought off incursions from the enemy.

Inside was a small cave, which at first sight appeared to be all there was, until the far wall was reached, when it turned sharply to the left and led to a second and much larger chamber, which to Faramir's delight was fairly dry and well ventilated. A passageway leading deeper into the hillside branched off from the larger cave, providing a possible hiding place in case of danger.

A heap of ashes showed that it had been possible to have a fire there when the Military had used it as a hiding place, so it seemed ideal if Faramir either needed to hide himself, or if it were necessary, hide Aragorn. Not that he would choose to bring his King, were he injured, to a cave when he should be in the Houses of Healing, but it would have to suffice.

Swiftly, he unloaded the packhorse and his saddlebags and stored the clothing and medicines well out of sight, followed by the bedding. He was delighted to find two bedrolls, and a generous supply of blankets, towels, and even a pelt, which would serve either as arug or an extra warm bedcover. Nor had Aedred forgotten to pack candles, soap, pans and dried foodstuffs as well as a sturdy bow and a supply of arrows. The man was a real treasure, even though he was a Healer!

Once the supplies were safely stored, and protected from marauding rats, Faramir left the cave and examined the surrounding area, which was mainly woodland, passable only via the little known track he had used. There was also sufficient grazing to support the horses for a few weeks. A small but clear stream, which ran through the woods from the hillside, would provide adequate drinking and washing water.

It was almost surprising that no one had chosen to set up home in the cave, the fact that no one had, was a testimony of itself to how well concealed it was and that the few who knew of its location had kept that secret.

He prepared to leave Roheryn behind, whispering to him in Elvish that he must await his master and could only hope that he understood. He then took the saddle and bridle from him, and placed them on Hjordnis .He then mounted her to ride back to Minas Tirith ere daybreak

Dawn was already breaking when he reached the City, even riding as fast as his stolid and good-natured mount was capable of, over the rough forest terrain. Faramir realised his plan would never have worked had he been in his own apartments, as the cock was already crowing and a servant would have been bringing him his morning drink soon afterwards.

The horses had obviously been rounded up again and there was no sign of any human presence near the field. Obviously, the watchman was resting after his eventful night.

Knowing from Aedred's description that she was unlikely to stray, Faramir took the tack off Hjiordnis and left her by the gate. It was to be hoped that the watchman would merely think that he had overlooked her the previous night.

Patting the horse and giving her a farewell treat of an apple, Faramir looked for the tunnel entrance but could not find it. He was starting to panic when a black robed figure grabbed his arm. He almost jumped out of his skin.

TBC

_A grateful thank you to all my reviewers for your kind comments and suggestions._

_Arwen, Eowyn and the babies are well and I hope to return to them later._

_The suspense is going to get ever worse, I fear! Who knows what Faramir will be driven to do before the end ?_


	16. He knows not to what end he rides

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**"He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew, he would still go on." - Tolkien – 'The Return of the King'**.

"This way! I thought you might get lost as the entrance is so well hidden!" Aedred said.

Faramir visibly sighed with relief. For one dreadful moment, he feared that the healers had betrayed him.

"You look exhausted! Come, you can rest now, Tarostar has let it be known that he has given you a powerful sleeping draught that will not wear off until at least noon. Did your mission go well?"

"I have stored all the supplies that you and Tarostar so generously provided," Faramir told him, unable to suppress a yawn.

"We are glad to be able to help you, Lord Faramir," Aedred assured him, as he guided him back through the rocky passage. The way back, although uphill seemed far shorter that it had been before, and after what seemed only a few minutes, Faramir was back in his room. Aedred thoughtfully provided a light breakfast of bread and fruit for him washed down with a herbal tea.

While Faramir ate, he took his nightshirt from the pillow and straightened the covers, then left him to undress.

Although exhausted, Faramir feared he would never sleep, his mind spun with endless uncertainties, possibilities and a dreadful fear that all his efforts would ultimately be in vain.

He almost dreaded to sleep, as his dreams of Aragorn calling to him, became ever more vivid and terrifying. He had tried to reach out to him, but either lacked the ability or sufficient experience to do so. Even now, a corner of mind still held a nagging doubt that it was all wishful thinking on both his part and the Queen's.

"Wake up, Lord Faramir!" Tarostar's voice roused him from yet another dark dream.

He sat up, blinking at the bright sunlight streaming into the room. "Where? What?" he asked sleepily.

"Your ear infection is quite cured, Lord Faramir and you can go home today!" Tarostar announced breezily, with a finger to his lips and a conspiratorial wink.

"Thank you so much, Master Tarostar!" the Steward answered sincerely.

"May the Valar bless you and keep you in good health!" the healer replied, wondering if he would ever see Faramir again.

The Steward spent the next two days trying to think of the right things to say and do to ingratiate himself with Lord Lamedon, something that was totally alien to his nature yet needed to be done in order to discover the truth. Even if Aragorn were dead, he could at least try to bring the murderers to justice, though there was no penalty that the law could impose, that would ever serve as recompense for the loss of such a man as he.

He made a statement before the Council, announcing he would be away for a short time and leaving Imrahil in charge, his uncle bearing the highest rank.

He had to force himself to look contemptuously at the man he had loved since early childhood. He was forced to turn away from the open disgust in his uncle's eyes. Tarostar had promised to tell the Prince of Dol Amroth that Faramir was perfectly sane, which had surely shattered Imrahil's last shreds of hope that his nephew was no traitor.

He feared now that he was going to his own death at the hands of those who had killed his King. This was far worse than preparing for battle, as then he would be surrounded by loyal comrades and death, if it came would be swift and honourable. If only he could have seen Eowyn and his daughter for one last time!

He found himself going through Aragorn's possessions, trying to capture the essence of their owner. When he discovered a tunic, which still bore the lingering scent of athelas, the fragrance which reminded him of the King, he buried his face in it and wept.

Faramir had decided against taking his beloved Iavas to Lord Lamedon's mansion, for if what he was planning to do proved to be a suicide mission, or even if they were pursued, he did not want to risk the beautiful chestnut mare.

Instead, he decided to ride Zachus, an unremarkable but sturdy and reliable bay gelding that his father had given him. Zachus had been sent from Rohan as a colt for Denethor, but had proved a disappointment to the Steward, as the bay was far from elegant, closely resembling a carthorse and skittish in crowds. Faramir had only decided to keep him, as he feared him ending up in the hands of someone who might ill treat him for he had a soft spot for the good natured horse.

He set out on the appointed day with the servant Lord Lamedon had sent, claiming disappointment that Iavas had a loose shoe and he had to arrive on an inferior horse.

"Never you mind, my lord," said the servant, "Lord Lamedon will lend you a fine mount for stay. He has some of the best horseflesh in all of Gondor!"

To Faramir's relief the man was not talkative, though as part of his plan, he made a few seemingly casual remarks, about how much better things had been in Denethor's day, when they passed places still in various states of disrepair.

Although they were headed in the same direction, that Faramir had taken two nights before, this time the route lay through open countryside rather than woodland. The Steward pretended complete ignorance of the area, which was plausible enough, as he had rarely been invited to house parties unlike his much more gregarious older brother. Boromir had revelled in the atmosphere that usually prevailed with liberal consumption of alcohol and easy availability of women. Faramir was the more like his father in that wise, adhering strictly to the Numenorean ideals of sobriety and sexual abstinence outside marriage.

Lord Lamedon's mansion, more than lived up to its name, as it more closely resembled a palace, being a vast structure built of white stone and decorated with turrets.

As he rode through the gates, Faramir wondered if he were walking into a trap and wished fervently that he could somehow have managed to bring troops and conceal them.

The Steward was shown inside and greeted effusively by his host.

"Greetings, Lord Faramir!" he said, "Welcome to my humble abode! I am so glad that you could come, especially as I heard tidings you were unwell."

"The thought of your lordship's hospitality hastened my recovery!" Faramir replied .

"You come alone?" Lord Lamedon's expression was suddenly wary.

"Of course my lord, for what have I to fear now that Northern upstart is no more! I know you care only for the welfare of my House and to see my brother's heiress given her due!"

Lord Lamedon stepped aside and whispered a question to Faramir's escort. The reply obviously satisfied him, as his smile became warmer and he embraced the Steward and kissed him on the brow. Faramir fought hard to repress a shudder as he returned the greeting. That he might be embracing Aragorn's murderer, was not a pleasant thought.

"My servant tells me that you speak the truth, Lord Faramir," his host smiled.

Once any question over his veracity would have horrified Faramir. Now, he merely nodded politely.

"I will not ask you to unpack as due to the epidemic our company is small "said Lord Lamedon,".We are going to stay with Lord Devorin of Ringlo Vale in his Hunting Lodge instead. This house is rather large for entertaining just a few guests and many of my friends are sick with the fever at present. You will be amongst good friends. Do, please call me Fosco!"

Faramir realised that this was all part of a test to see whether he would come alone and was genuinely on their side.

"I would be delighted, Fosco. Maybe we will find good sport at Lord Devorin's Lodge." he said warmly, "Not that I will be able to wield a bow like I used to after our late unlamented King's ill treatment of me!

"You shall have the best healers to attend you in future, My Lord Faramir, rather than an Elven trained charlatan!" Lord Lamedon gushed," Maybe then you will recover your former strength?"

"Indeed, I may!" Faramir replied. "As I have not had the honour of visiting your home before, I would be most grateful if you could show me its splendours?"

"I would be delighted to, Lord Faramir!" Fosco replied, preceding to take Faramir on a lengthy and detailed tour of endless rooms.

The Steward pretended polite interest, not all of which was feigned, as the architecture was truly magnificent. He kept looking for any sign of Aragorn but found none.

When Lord Lamedon even showed him the cellars and boasted of his fine collection of wines, his spirits sank. They was no way in which Aragorn could be concealed here, unless it were in some secret room he had no idea how to enter.

"Send up several more bottles of my best wine!" he told the servant, who showed them round the cellars, "Lord Faramir must see just what my hospitality has to offer!"

A bell was rung soon after to announce dinner.

Faramir discovered that Lord Lamedon's dining hall was more in the style of Rohan than of Gondor, as no cutlery was used apart from the daggers they carried, while the dogs roamed freely, picking up scraps off the straw covered floor.

The meal was a lavish affair with enough food for double the number present, and far too much wine, which flowed very freely. He pretended to imbibe freely, while spilling a good deal surreptitiously on the floor drenching the bones that the dogs scavenged for amongst the straw

Faramir looked round the table for familiar faces, wondering if Hanna would be there or any of the other lords he suspected, but apart from Lady Lamedon, the only others present, appeared to be wealthy tenant farmers.

"Tell me, Lord Faramir, what caused your change of heart regarding the King?" Fosco asked, once he considered the wine would have loosened Faramir's tongue.

"He made me do all the hard work while he took the glory for it." Faramir replied, slurring his speech slightly "I also disliked seeing how much influence his Elven wife and friends had over honest men of Gondor. Then the final straw came when he had me sent to prison and beaten when his friend, Eomer of Rohan attacked me. The man he had hanged was a mere scapegoat for his perfidy! I cannot even eat properly since my dreadful ordeal as I suffered such injuries!" That lie at least gave him an excuse for his lack of appetite, as he tossed another chicken leg to the dogs at his feet.

"You will rejoice then, Lord Faramir, that the scoundrel has what he deserves at last, as I am sure you will be pleased to know!" Lord Lamedon smirked.

"Indeed!" Faramir tried to look indifferent though inwardly his heart pounded, unsure what the remark might mean.

The meal over, everyone appeared too drunk to do anything, which gave Faramir a chance to ponder the situation. From what he remembered of the map, which he dared not bring with him, Devorin's Hunting Lodge was only a few miles away.

With only an hour or so left before sunset, the party finally set off along a rough and narrow track, which wound steeply through forest, broken only by the occasional field where scrawny cows, marked with Devorin's distinctive brand, foraged for the meagre winter grazing. Two armed Guards wearing Lord Lamedon's livery led the way and the party proceeded at a slow and cautious pace.

Faramir's heart was in his mouth as they neared their destination. He could sense that the mystery of Aragorn's disappearance was finally going to be solved. He was certain now that the invitation had been a test to see whether he would turn up unescorted or not as bidden. He wondered whether the Guards were for Lord Lamedon's protection or to stop him trying to escape.

TBC

_A very grateful thank you to all my readers for your kind and much appreciated comments. I have almost reached 300 reviews already and the most exciting part (I hope) is yet to come._

_Faramir is hiding his distaste for the chicken by throwing it to the dogs,but in real life chicken bones should never be given to cats or dogs as they splinter easily and could injure your pet.Thanks to Raksha for pointing this out._


	17. Et tu,Brute ?

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

"**Et tu, Brute?" (Even you Brutus ?) - Julius Ceasar**

**Warning – This chapter and subsequent ones contain material, which may shock or distress sensitive readers.**

After passing a broken down gamekeeper's cottage, they finally reached their destination.

Devorin's Hunting Lodge was situated right on the edge of the forest and was somewhat larger than Faramir had been led to believe, closely resembling where he had stayed with Aragorn and Eowyn the year before. He only hoped that he would not have to share a bed with about ten others while he was here. Embracing Lord Lamedon and eating with him and his company was quite unpleasant enough.

When they dismounted and gave the care of their horses over to the grooms, a familiar small figure came running out of the house.

"Greetings, Lady Elbeth!" Lord Lamedon said pompously, kissing her small hand. She wrinkled her nose in distaste and then ran towards Faramir, who was a few paces behind. On reaching the Steward, she flung her small arms around his waist.

"You've come back!" she exclaimed joyfully, "I missed you! Mummy took me away from the nice lady you said was going to look after me and brought me here and I don't like it! Can you take me home?"

Faramir scooped her up and hugged her. She was slightly taller and plumper now than when he had first met her and instead of being clad in one of Aragorn's spare shirts, was now wearing a garish and unsuitable gown of pink silk, embroidered in gold.

"I missed you too, little one!" Faramir replied, ignoring her plea but knowing that he would have to somehow take her with him, if he escaped from this place alive.

"I'm not little now, I'm grown up and I'm going to be queen soon!" Elbeth pouted.

"Leave the Lord Steward alone, Lady Elbeth!" snapped Lord Lamedon.

"I do not mind, after all she is my niece!" Faramir replied.

"You! How dare you come here, let go of my daughter!" cried a strident voice, "Arrest him at once, you fools!"

Hanna, her manner and demeanour much as Faramir remembered, but vastly altered in appearance, as like her daughter she had put on weight and was lavishly attired in a red silk gown lavishly decorated with oversized ruffles.

"Peace, Lady Hanna!" Lord Lamedon soothed, "The Steward has seen the error of his ways and has come to join us. Have you not, Lord Faramir?"

Faramir bent to let Elbeth climb down, hoping that might be also interpreted as a bow to her mother.

"Indeed, I am most sorry for any discourtesy done to you, my lady, I acted only on the late King's orders" he said contritely, "I now wish only to see you and my niece given her rightful place in society."

Hanna snorted not seeming very convinced. Taking Elbeth by the hand,she dragged the reluctant child back indoors.

Faramir stared after them for a moment. It was strange to think that this innocent child should be the course of so much turmoil. If only he had taken her to Ithilien with him a year ago!

A servant then appeared and showed Faramir to his room, which to his great relief appeared to be for his sole use, despite the size of the bed. He had been concerned about sharing, which was the usual custom, lest he talked in his sleep and gave away his deception. Not that sharing a bed with a traitor would be a pleasant prospect in itself. He shuddered; thinking that was exactly what he was in the eyes of the world now.

He unpacked the few processions he had brought; all calculated not arouse suspicion, fine tunics, shirts and breeches, clean linens, a comb, a book and a silver dish as a gift for his host.

The vial containing the spider venom and a tapestry needle purloined from Arwen's sewing room, were the only suspicious items he carried, which he intended to keep on his person. He also had his precious brooch with him, a gift from Aragorn, which he was forced to wear pinned inside his shirt.

He bathed before dinner, scrubbing himself vigorously to try to wash away the taint he was feeling and trying to avoid rubbing the place upon his brow where Lord Lamedon had kissed him too conspicuously, though he would have scrubbed it, together with his lips, until it bled if doing so would not have betrayed him. Until today, he had only ever kissed those who were very dear to him.

He kept sword beside him in the bathing chamber as a precaution, wishing he could run Lord Lamedon through with its blade for his treachery. He yearned to search the Lodge and take Aragorn away to safety this instant, yet he could not without them both being killed or worse. Then there was Elbeth, somehow he must take her away too, for not only was she his niece, but also unwittingly one of the most dangerous individuals in the land.

Forcing himself to compose his thoughts, he dressed in a clean shirt, tunic and breeches. He had taken care these past weeks, not wear anything bearing the emblems of the White Tree or Seven Stars, as they were too closely associated with Aragorn. Luckily, he also had clothing designed to honour Eowyn's homeland He trusted that a design of white horses on a green background would say nothing more about him than that he loved his wife!

A tap came on his door shortly before the hour set to dine and he heard Lord Lamedon's voice calling "If you are at liberty, Lord Faramir, there is something I would show you!"

"One moment, I am just changing!" Faramir replied, as he again checked the vial of spider venom was in his pocket and a dagger concealed in his boot. On some strange impulse, he retrieved his gloves, which lay beside his travelling cloak, and thrust them into his pocket.

Forcing a smile, he went out to see what his host had planned.

"My Lord Fosco," Faramir exclaimed enthusiastically, "I will be delighted to see whatever you desire! I am most curious."

"This will be a surprise, Lord Faramir!" Fosco gave me a smile, which reminded him uncomfortably of a wolf baring its jaws before devouring its prey.

A lantern in his hand, Lord Lamedon led him through a maze of stone corridors and down towards the basement. The Steward tried to hide his growing fear that this was a trap and he was being led like a lamb to the slaughter.

"Watch your step!" Lord Lamedon advised, as he led Faramir down a flight of worn stairs to what appeared to be a wine cellar. The lantern cast eerie shadows on the mildewed walls and the Steward coughed from the unhealthy dampness.

"I have a surprise for you!" Fosco announced when they paused before a door, "This will be the very last person you expected to see. I have decided that it is only right that you should now that you are obviously on our side .You deserve to be taken into our full confidence!"

He threw open the door and held the lantern high to reveal a windowless cellar unfurnished apart from a rough mattress and a bucket. The sudden stench of combined damp, filth and disease, which emanated from the small room, made Faramir feel like retching.

A man, filthy and emaciated, lay on the bed, his wrist and ankles shackled and fastened by another chain to the wall.

He wore filthy clothing and was partially covered by a moth eaten and stained blanket. The shrunken features were contorted with suffering, but the eyes and noble bearing, even in such circumstances were unmistakable. It was Aragorn.

A surge of elation welled up in Faramir's heart, making him forget the squalid surroundings. His King was alive!

He looked away fearful his eyes would betray his true feelings.

"I've brought you a visitor, Elessar!" Fosco sneered, "You can see now that holding out against authorising the marriage is futile, as the only one who might have opposed the union, has decided to join us!"

Aragorn wearily lifted his head and looked directly at Faramir. A mixture of hope and joy briefly flickered in the grey eyes before giving way to concern.

Faramir knew all too well what his friend was feeling, pleasure at seeing him, swiftly superseded by concern over his safety. He forced himself to look at his King trying to hide his joy that he lived as well as the horror of finding him so obviously ill treated in a cold, dark cellar.

"Why, Lord Faramir, you seem quite dumbstruck!" Lord Lamedon commented, giving the Steward a suspicious look "I could almost suspect that it pleased you to know that this usurper still lives?"

Faramir shuddered inwardly. It seemed that he was about to be unmasked. He would have to do that which he had most feared.

He knew what he must do next, would break Aragorn's heart and his own too. He slid his hands inside his pockets and donned the gloves.

Striding across the small room, he struck the helpless King a blow across the face.

" I thought you at the bottom of the river and not a moment too soon!" he snarled, "After everything you have made me suffer I hoped I was finally rid of you!"

Aragorn barely flinched at the blow but the look of hurt, betrayal and shock in his eyes was more than Faramir could endure.

"Even you Faramir!" The softly voiced reproach was like a dagger through the Steward's heart. He strode towards the door without a second glance. Fosco followed and locked it behind them.

TBC

A/N

_"**Et tu, Brute?" is used to express surprise and dismay at the treachery of a supposed friend. Spoken by Caesar in 44 B.C., on seeing that his friend Brutus was one of his assassins**_

_Elbeth and Hanna are introduced in the latter chapters of' Shadow and Thought', which I would recommend referring to, if you have not already read it._

_A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, you are greatly appreciated. I have now passed the 300 mark, how many more depends entirely on my loyal readers. Some of you have made some very good guesses and I loved the poem!_

_Faramir does not dislike chicken but being in such company has rather spoiled his appetite._

_The idea of Faramir burying his head in the tunic was Elenhin's, for which I am most grateful._


	18. Why, this is Hell

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it:  
Think'st thou that I, that saw the face of God,  
And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,  
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells,  
In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss?**

**The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus - Marlowe**

**Warning - This chapter may offend sensitive readers**

"I would have expected you to hit him harder after all you had endured at his hands," Fosco commented suspiciously, as he led the Steward back up the worn steps. "Why, pray, did you don your gloves?"

"I had no desire to wash my hands again before dinner, after touching a man like that!" Faramir replied. "There was a time I had great strength in my arms, but that was before I was beaten up in prison on that tyrant's orders!"

At least, it was most unlikely that Lord Lamedon would guess that he dared not touch Aragorn with his bare hands, that he feared lest the strong psychic connection he had with Aragorn gave his plans away. He did not dare risk Aragorn inadvertently betraying him, so the King's shock and hurt had to be genuine, painful though it was to deceive him.

He shuddered as the full impact of what he had done sank in. He has struck the King, his liege lord, whom he was sworn to protect and not only than that, a chained and defenceless man whom he loved as a brother. He was now a traitor not only in words, but also in deeds.

"Are you quite well, Lord Faramir? " Fosco enquired solicitously.

"It is cold down here," Faramir replied. "I was also taken aback to see that Elessar was still alive as He caused me so much injury!"

Fosco seemed convinced as he laughed bitterly. "You will learn we all have good cause to hate him. He caused my beloved father's death for he rode to Elessar's cursed banner on his return from the Paths of the Dead .It was more than mortal man could endure for he survived the war, only to die by his own hand a few months later, unable to endure the memories of what he had seen. What normal man, however valiant, could endure such horrors? Mark my words, Elessar only got where he is by using dark magic!"

Faramir nodded mutely as he was led into the dining room, which surprisingly was cleaner and better furnished than the one at the mansion. The meal had already begun.

He looked with interest around the table, which as expected, was presided over by Devorin of Ringlo Vale. Also there, confirming his suspicions, was the Lord of Lebennin together with the tenant farmers he had met earlier. The only females present, apart from serving maids, were Hanna and Elbeth.

Hanna was now wearing an ever more elaborate gown of orange silk, the low cleavage adorned with Aragorn's Elfstone brooch.

"That trinket suits you well, Lady Hanna!" Fosco commented, his eyes drawn to the huge green jewel.

"It suits her eyes, don't you think?" said Devorin, "A beautiful jewel for a beautiful woman!" He reached out to touch the jewel while at the same time groping Hanna's ample bosom.

Hanna giggled coquettishly though she batted his hand away.

Faramir struggled to hide his disgust as seeing Aragorn's beautiful gem adorning such a woman.

Devorin, aware that the Steward's eyes were fixed upon him, fortunately misunderstood his expression." I see you envy my good fortune, Lord Faramir," he said, chuckling indulgently." I can find you a pretty wench to keep you entertained tonight. I promise you, she knows quite a few ways of pleasuring a man that no well brought up wife would have heard of! I can vouch for her ,as I taught them to her myself! I'll have her sent to your room later."

Faramir swallowed hard. It was bad enough that he was betraying his King and he was certainly not planning to betray Eowyn too. "That sounds delightful," he said after a moment's thought, " I fear though, that I am too weary after my journey and recent illness to do justice to your kind offer tonight."

"Tell me when you change you mind, you'll not regret it!" Devorin said lazily, his hand finding its way inside Hanna's bodice. This time, she purred with pleasure and bent her head to kiss the exploring fingers.

Elbeth, despite her youth, looked troubled at her mother's behaviour and scowled, distracted from eating her soup.

"Cheer up, Lady Elbeth!" Fosco said jovially, "Now that Lord Faramir is here to help us, we should soon have your marriage to Prince Eldarion arranged!"

"I don't want to be married!" Elbeth protested, "Boys are noisy and dirty!"

"But you will be a queen!" Fosco assured her, "Then you will have lots of pretty jewels like that one your mother is wearing!"

"I hope there are better jewels in the Royal Treasury than this cheap bauble!" Hanna snorted. "Here, take it to play with and stop whining!" She unfastened the brooch, displaying even more flesh, and tossed it carelessly to Elbeth.

"I want my favourite dolly but you wouldn't let me bring her! The brooch is pretty but not as nice as Winnie!" Elbeth refused to be convinced, though she pinned the brooch to her gown.

"Where is Lord Lossarnach?" Fosco asked, abandoning his attempts to appease Elbeth, "If he has betrayed us, it will be the worse for him!"

"Betrayed us to whom?" Devorin said dismissively, "The Steward is on our side now and the Prince of Dol Amroth and the few lords that support him could not hold out against all of us. Have no fears of treachery! He is after all married to my daughter. I received news earlier that he had fallen ill with the fever, which is a blow for us but will not affect our plans."

Devorin looked nervous. "The fever seems to be spreading." he fretted, "One of the maids has fallen ill after visiting her mother in the City. Lady Elbeth must be kept safe at all costs. Keep the girl away from us all as none of us have had it!"

"I have." said Faramir, speaking for the first time, and then wondering if he should have kept the information to himself, or whether it would grant him more access to Elbeth.

"We hope you can help us now that you are here, Lord Faramir," Devorin said, as if noticing the Steward for the first time. "We need to get Elessar's signature or seal on the document authorising Lady Elbeth's marriage to Eldarion before we can get rid of him .The Elven witch would obey her husband's last wishes before we deal with her. I was going to have your secretary plant it amongst Elessar's papers, Lord Faramir, but it will be easier now you have joined us. Then we can be the real power in Gondor, as none would oppose their rightful King and Queen. We have tried every method of persuasion we can think of but he will not yield. Do you know how his signet ring works?"

"Only that it uses some Elvish arts to move the seal to the correct angle." Faramir told them, "Elessar guarded its secret jealously. I was given the hard work of compiling the documents for him to sign and seal but never trusted to use the ring!" Even the memory of such mundane tasks was painful, as he remembered how he and Aragorn would companionably work long hours together, planning a better future for Gondor.

He knew exactly how the ring worked, two twists to the left, followed by one to the right and a further half twist left, which turned the emerald over to reveal the Royal Seal. Lord Elrond had designed the ingenious device and had given it as wedding present to his son in law. Faramir had greatly approved of the design, as several times during his father's reign, unscrupulous secretaries had been bribed by those anxious for some decree or other to be passed. It would be impossible for any man to wear such a heavy ring at all times, which meant any could use it when it was laid aside.

He actually remembered his father with something resembling gratitude tonight. Without the practise of endless years spent in hiding his true feelings, when his father scorned Mithrandir's Counsel and chided him for his love of books and Elvish lore, he would be hard pressed to endure this company and the sight of Hanna treating Aragorn's priceless heirloom as if it were some cheap trinket!

"Maybe now that Elessar knows that you have joined us, he will come to his senses and earn himself a speedy despatch, rather than something more painful and lingering." Devorin mused hopefully, "He may have hoped that you were bringing troops to free him."

"My family ruled for almost a thousand years, then he came and took what should have been mine!" Faramir said with feigned resentment, "The people were blinded by his military prowess, as was I at first, to my endless regret, but what power has one man without an army? He should sign now and spare himself pain!"

"You are all too soft with him!" Hanna interrupted, "He still has clothing and a blanket for a start. You should let me try to persuade him!"

"And what would you do, lady?" Devorin asked, stroking her chin and letting his fingers move down her neck.

"Have a bit of fun with him, then take his manhood!" Hanna giggled gleefully, as she brandished the knife she was using to cut up her venison with, causing an involuntary shudder amongst all the males present.

Faramir remembered that mad laugh from the night she had attacked Aragorn .He was quite certain she was capable of carrying out her threat. It shocked him that an innocent child should be present for such talk, but Elbeth merely looked bored and arranged the vegetables on her plate in a complicated pattern. He forced himself to try to eat, though he had little appetite in such company, but there were no dogs here to surreptitiously dispose of the food to.

"A good idea, My Lady!" Devorin complimented her; "We will try it together with some of our own very soon, if Lord Faramir's presence cannot change Elessar's mind. Tomorrow we will begin by taking his clothes and blanket .Few men can be proud when naked, especially not after what I shall to do to him!"

"He is growing weaker so we cannot wait longer than three days at the most." Fosco commented, "Even his infernal pride can be broken if we inflict sufficient pain and humiliation upon him until he breaks! However we will see if Lord Faramir's presencehas any effect first."

TBC

A/N

_A very big thank you for your amazing response to the previous chapter. Each and every review was greatly appreciated and I was delighted to hear from readers old and new, welcome and welcome back! I loved the poem!_

_Faramir dare not risk to alerting Aragorn of his plan and needs his horror to be real, as Imrahil's was. It is very hard for there is nothing worse than betrayal by a friend as my readers so rightly say._

_I intend to explore soon what Aragorn is thinking and the eventual fate of the lords, but that is some time away yet._

_The name "Devorin" is Tolkien's, "Fosco," I chose as it sounded vaguely Italian Renaissance when much plotting went on._

_Aragorn has not yet spoken his last words._


	19. What darkness here !

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Gott,**

**welch Dunkel hier!**

**O grauenvolle Stille!……**

**In des Lebens Frühlingstagen**

**ist das Glück von mir geflohn.**

**Wahrheit wagt ich kühn zu sagen,**

**und die Ketten sind mein Lohn.**

**(God, what darkness here! O stillness filled with horror!… In the springtime of my life, my joy has fled. Bravely I dared to speak the truth and chains are my reward.) Fidelio – Beethoven/** **Sonnleithner**

**Warning – This chapter contains violence and may distress sensitive readers.**

Heartbroken and racked by pain, Aragorn lay alone in the darkness lost in thought. He had long ago lost count of the days since he had been brought to this dreadful place.

It had all happened so quickly. One moment he had been contentedly walking home from the Houses of Healing, weary but light of heart, after healing a young brother and sister who had been close to death from the fever, and the next, he had heard footsteps behind him.

Taken by surprise, he had swung round in time to see several shadowy figures emerging from a dark alley and converging upon him.

He had tried to fight, but stood little chance, being exhausted from the prolonged healing and unarmed. He felt a sharp blow to the back of his head and then knew no more.

He regained his senses only to find himself moving in a bumpy cart of some kind. His head throbbed, his stomach heaved and his throat felt like parchment When he tried to stretch his cramped and aching limbs, he found he was securely bound, with ropes so tightly wound around his wrists and ankles that they bit into his flesh.

A dirty rag had been stuffed into his mouth, which left him hardly able to breathe and rendered crying out for aid impossible.

As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he realised he was in a wagon loaded with grain. He could tell they had left the City from the feel of dirt tracks under the wheels and the silence outside apart from the hooting of owls and later the sound of water nearby and branches brushing the top of the wagon.

After several hours of bumping along country roads, two men, well dressed enough to suggest they were retainers of someone of wealth and status, rather than flour merchants, came and blindfolded him before dragging him from the wagon.

He could tell that it was daylight now from what little light penetrated the blindfold and the nearby squawking of the birds.

He was roughly carried through what he assumed to be a house and then down some steps and into what felt like a cellar.

He could hear more men entering and felt them untying the ropes. He tried to struggle free but other hands were roughly holding him down.

" 'e's putting up a right fight !" one of the men complained.

"What do you expect? " said another voice I just 'ope 'is lordship pays us well for all the bruises 'e's given us!"

He then heard more footsteps as if someone else had entered the room.

"Strip him and be quick about it!" This voice was educated and vaguely familiar.

They pulled off Aragorn's boots and then started to remove his clothing. He struggled furiously; kicking and punching out at them, despite the blows they rained down on him. He was afraid now of what they might do but determined not to show it.

It was at least six against one, a struggle he was doomed to lose, and as two men held him down, a further two yanked his arms over his head, while another pulled off his tunic and shirt. He could tell, though, they were taking care not to tear them, which slowed their progress somewhat.

Two men then roughly secured his arms to prevent him from lashing out, while two more unfastened his belt then grabbed his breeches and started pulling them off, despite his efforts to prevent such an indignity by lashing out wildly with his feet at the clutching hands.

Eventually, when he was wearing only his drawers, he launched a last desperate struggle, both to protect his modesty and to try to thwart what he now guessed they were planning to do.

He succeeded in landing a well-placed kick on the man who had hold of the leg of the material causing it to rip.

The man yelped in pain and another of them kicked his ribs hard in retaliation. Although winded and in pain, he continued his desperate struggle against his assailants.

A voice said, "Leave it for now! Torn clothing could arouse suspicion and one pair of white linen drawers is much like another."

He repressed the ghost of a smile, as it seemed that he had guessed rightly.

He shivered as he felt cold, damp stone under his naked back and legs, He could feel gooseflesh forming across his exposed chest and arms and the cold mustiness of the air made him cough.

He was dragged across the floor; the rough stone painfully grazing his back. He shivered again and could hear the man who had ordered him stripped, laughing gleefully at his discomfort.

He then felt them pulling a pair of rough breeches over his legs and forcing his arms into a shirt of equally coarse material. This time he did not struggle, as he would need more clothing than his torn drawers if he were to escape his captors.

Vainly, he struggled again, when he heard an ominous clanking sound, and he felt the cold metal of manacles secured around his wrists and ankles.

A further chain was attached to his ankle and he heard more clanking and the sound of a key being turned in a rusty lock. Only then, was the blindfold removed and Aragorn realised he was in what appeared to be a disused wine cellar with a chain attached to his ankles secured to a ring on the wall.

The only furnishings were a rough, straw stuffed mattress and a metal bucket. There were only two men with him now, a burly individual dressed in servant's garb and Devorin, Lord of Ringlo Vale, who was carefully folding up his clothing.

The servant removed the gag and threw him down on the mattress, which provided little comfort to his aching flesh.

"What is the meaning of this outrage?" he demanded of Devorin, "Release me at once if you do not wish to die as a traitor!"

Devorin laughed again. It was not a pleasant sound. "Welcome to your new home, your majesty!" he smirked, "How pleasant, or otherwise your stay will be, is entirely up to you! A pity you did not save us all this inconvenience by authorising the marriage of your son to Lady Elbeth when we asked you nicely!"

"You are wasting your time!" Aragorn retorted coldly.

"I think not!" Devorin replied, "Even one such as you cannot be completely immune to persuasion and your wife will feel compelled to follow her husband's last wishes! It is the nature of her kind."

"You cannot hope to succeed." Aragorn informed him, "You are just one man against theKingdom of Gondor!"

"You will be surprised just how many have joined me, Elessar," Devorin replied smugly, "Most of the Council are now on my side. We are all weary of your highhanded ways, your measures to favour the peasant riff raff, and of how little you respect our history and culture and those that served faithfully in your name for generations! This plague which has struck us is most surely a punishment from higher powers for your misdeeds!"

"I have done only what is best for Gondor. You and your sympathisers are nothing more that common traitors!" Aragorn retorted, unmoved by this speech. It was beginning to make sense to him now, obviously, Devorin was the ringleader, rather than Lord Lamedon whom he had previously suspected and no doubt the other troublemakers in the Council were also involved.

"Enough talk, we will leave you to reflect, but first you have something we want, which I almost overlooked!"

The burly servant moved with surprising speed to pin him down, as Devorin swooped and snatched the rings from his fingers.

Beaten, chained and pinioned against the mattress, he was helpless to resist as Devorin held up the precious items in triumph, the Ring of Barahir, the ancient heirloom of his house, with which he had first pledged himself to Arwen, the slender band he had given her on their wedding night after they had spoken their private vows of love and his Ring of State, used to place his official seal on documents with. If only he had not been wearing that, but he had been called to the Houses of Healing in haste. At least, he had turned it, so only the emerald was visible and it was unlikely they would ever guess how to use it.

Still smirking, Devorin and his servant left him in the cold and darkness. The King tried to contain his panic at being in such a small, enclosed space. At times, he felt enclosed even in his vast chamber in the Citadel, where he was free to come and go as he pleased. To be chained and imprisoned in a small, dark cellar; was the stuff of his worse nightmares.

Although he was dismayed at the turn of events, initially Aragorn tried to calm himself, certain that Faramir would soon discover his absence, though whether his Steward would know where to search would be another matter, but surely his abduction could not have gone without someone seeing or hearing something.

He did fear, though, that the conspirators might attempt to pass some poor soul's corpse as his, given the care they had taken and their remarks when removing his clothing. However, they were certain to show it to Arwen, and she would realise there was no white tree embroidered on the drawers and become suspicious.

The Thought Bond he shared with both his wife and Faramir, was yet another advantage he possessed, that his captors knew nothing of. His loved ones would sense that he was not dead and in need of their aid.

He tried to distract himself from the choking darkness, by studying the clothing he had been given, breeches, which looked like some a servant had discarded them as no longer fit to wear and equally worn socks. The shirt however was a more curious garment, as it buttoned all the way down the front, rather than being laced at the neck as was usual, making it worryingly easy to remove from a man in chains.

He had no illusions about what they might mean by 'persuasion' but trusted he was strong enough to endure whatever pain they might inflict. Agreeing to their proposal was out of the question, for not only would he be condemning his son to a loveless marriage, but no doubt, also signing his death warrant together with that of his Queen and Faramir as well.

He foresaw all too well what would happen after the marriage had taken place, the rebel lords surrounding Elbeth would despatch Faramir as their greatest threat, then Arwen, when she opposed what they were doing to Gondor and finally Eldarion, once he was old enough to have a will of his own. No matter what they did to him, he would never betray the ones he loved, rather would he give back the Gift.

He tried to rest and fell into an uneasy sleep, waking only when a servant brought a mug of water and some unappetising leftovers, barely fit for a dog to eat.

He was then left alone for long hours of waiting for the inevitable. The darkness was oppressive as was the silence, broken only by the scurrying of what sounded suspiciously like rats.

The waiting ended when Lord Lamedon entered his prison clutching a parchment and his Ring of State followed by a servant bearing a horsewhip.

"If you sign this marriage contract now, you will spare yourself a great deal of pain," Lord Lamedon announced, though not very hopefully. "We have taken care to ensure that everyone believes you to be dead, so do not hope for rescue!"

"I will never sign!" Aragorn replied determinedly.

Immediately the servant was upon him unbuttoning the shirt and sliding it from his shoulders before thrashing him repeatedly with the whip.

He gritted his teeth, determined not to make a sound, reminding himself that his was only a horsewhip and not a cat of nine tails such as had torn poor Faramir's flesh to ribbons.

Mentally he cried out, pleading with his Steward to come to save him. Yet, how could Faramir help him when he did not know where he was?

Eventually, they grew weary of beating him and the coarse shirt was pulled back over his shoulders. Bruised and bleeding, he was again alone in the darkness.

If that was all they meant to do, he could endure it until rescue came, but there was worse in store, far worse.

TBC

A/N

_A very grateful thank you to all my reviewers for your kind comments, poems and playlets, all of which are greatly appreciated._

_You are welcome to plan a horrible fate for the villains, as they richly deserve it._

_My apologies for unintentionally using a Hobbit name for a villain.I wish now,though that I'd called Hanna 'Lorena' !_


	20. My broken Heart is full of heaviness

_These Characters are the property of the Estate of J. R. R Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story has been written for pleasure and no profit has or will be made from it._

**Reproach hath broken my heart; and I am full of heaviness: and I looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none Psalm 69.20**

**I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my face from shame and spitting. Isaiah 50.6**

**Warning – This chapter contains violence and may distress sensitive readers.**

Aragorn came to increasingly dread the visits of the burly servant whom he had come to think of as 'the butcher'. They enjoyed telling him that the man had been the official executioner during Denethor's time and was a master of inflicting slow, excruciating pain.

The King was no coward, yet was unable to bite back his screams when such agony was inflicted on his increasingly damaged and helpless body. With his mind, he tried to reach out with his mind to Faramir, pleading with him to come and save him from such torment.

If his tormentors had expected him to beg for mercy and agree to their demands though, they were disappointed as his will remained resolute and he never gave up hope that rescue would come soon.

Between the butcher's visits, both Lord Lamedon and Devorin of Ringlo Vale took great delight in punching him in the ribs, belly or groin, never sufficiently to cause any great damage but hard enough to inflict considerable pain. They would laugh and spit in his face while their chained and helpless captive struggled to suppress his cries of pain and frustrated rage.

One day, frustrated that he had yet again refused to sign the document, authorising the marriage of his son to Elbeth, Fosco had pinioned his left hand to the floor, while Devorin had stamped on his fingers repeatedly, crushing several fingers and had only stopped when he lost consciousness with the pain.

Always, there was the lurking fear that worse pain and humiliation lay in store, as so far they had made no further attempts to remove his drawers or cause any potentially fatal injury. Maybe some deep-seated fear of what he symbolised held them back, but for how long?

Hanna often accompanied Devorin armed with a knife, which caused Aragorn to shudder and fear for his manhood but at Devorin's urging, she merely brandished it, telling him in great detail what she intended eventually to do. She contented herself though, with grabbing handfuls of his hair and beard and painfully pulling out clumps.

He became increasingly disorientated, having no way of knowing day from night in this windowless cellar and he suspected that they deliberately varied the times at which they came to 'persuade' him either to sign or seal the document or even how often they came.

Even what food and drink they provided, was brought at sporadic intervals. They brought the water in a dish rather than a cup and he was forced to either spill half the precious liquid or lap it like a dog much to his tormentors' amusement.

The confinement was especially hard to endure for one such as he. He was accustomed to cold and hunger from his long years as a ranger, but never confinement.

Even Minas Tirith often made him feel enclosed and a dark cellar was torment indeed, to one accustomed to the open sky and the feel of the wind in his face. It took all the relaxation techniques that the Elves had taught him over the years to keep him from panicking. Even using all he had been taught, he often felt he could not breathe and would stifle without fresh air and the sight of the sky overhead.

He grew sore and stiff not only from his wounds but also from lack of movement and the fetters binding him. It took a supreme effort even to reach the bucket when nature demanded and only his pride and sheer force of will enabled him to do so.

He grew weaker as the days passed. They fed him barely enough to keep him alive and his lips were parched from lack of sufficient water. He sustained himself with thoughts of the three he loved so dearly; Arwen with her tender smile, her passionate embraces, her musical laugh and her beauty both of body and soul, Eldarion, so tiny and perfect, yet growing by the day, who already smiled with such love at his doting father, and Faramir, the chosen son and brother of his soul, his closest and dearest friend with whom he had spent so many happy hours discussing their shared interests and plans for Gondor's future, always with such love and devotion in his grey eyes, so alike to his King's.

Faramir's devotion was humbling as his love had never faltered even after Aragorn's misinterpreted command had led him to be almost beaten to death, which made the King love him all the more dearly once he knew the true depth of his devotion and forgiveness.

They shared a bond as close and loving as that of any father and son and Aragorn continually reached out with his mind towards both Faramir and his wife, hoping the thought bonds they shared would alert them to his plight, though Arwen alone was the most likely to understand what he was trying convey.

As an Elf, she had a far greater perception than any not of her race was capable of. He continually stroked the white tree, she had so lovingly embroidered on the leg of his drawers, glad that he had at least something left to cherish in this dreadful place.

He had no idea of how long he had spent in this grim place. At times, when he was certain that none could hear and the pain was unbearable, he would weep in agony.

One day, or night, he knew not which, the door opened softly and a small shape entered carrying a candle.

To his amazement it was a child, and not just any child but Elbeth. She started in terror at the sight of his chains and dishevelled appearance but did not cry out, displaying an iron willed self-control, amazing for one so young.

In her hand, she clutched a cup and a half eaten apple together with a slice of bread from which jam oozed on to her small fingers.

"You have no need to fear me, Elbeth," he said softly, blinking back his tears. "I will not harm you!"

Tiptoeing closer, she eyed him curiously, undecided whether to flee or remain. "You are the man who was kind to me when grandma died!" she said at last, setting the candle down. "They told me you were a bad king who wanted to hurt me and was being punished for that, but I don't think you're bad now I know it's you! I thought it was another king as there are lots in my book of stories!"

"They told you a lie, Elbeth, I would never hurt you," Aragorn replied, "I do not want you to marry my son, that is all."

"I don't _want_ to get married. I don't know why anyone does as boys are so noisy and dirty." Elbeth said scornfully, moving closer and wrinkling her small nose in distaste at the stench of the place.

"You should not be here as they might be angry with you." Aragorn told her, knowing he should encourage her to leave, yet loath to lose the sight of a friendly face.

"They won't dare be angry. I'm to be the Queen and then I shall chop off their heads!" Elbeth said haughtily, "They keep telling me that I am vital to their plan!"

Aragorn felt a pang of regret. If only he and Faramir had taken her with them a year ago, then this innocent would not be entangled within their web of treason. ."Why are you here?" he asked.

"I was hungry and went to find something nice to eat in the kitchen. They had venison for supper and it tastes horrid!" she explained, "They told me not to come here as 'Lesser the Zerper' was dangerous. Tonight I heard you crying and I was curious who 'Lesser the Zerper' was. I thought you must be a monster or something, but it's only you! Monsters don't cry!"

" I am Elessar, but I am no usurper, you can call me 'Strider' as it is easier to say!" Aragorn told her gravely. He noticed she was wearing only a nightgown and surmised it must be quite late. "You will catch a chill, Elbeth," he said kindly, "Return to your bed."

"Would you like this food, Strider?" she asked with surprising insight for a child, "I don't think I'm hungry after all, as there was nothing I could find but a sour apple and bread and jam .I wanted some cakes or maybe beef jelly!"

"Yes I am hungry." he replied quietly and was rewarded by having small fingers thrust the food into his larger ones. He forced himself not to gulp, as after what they had been feeding him on, no Royal Banquet could have tasted finer and he ate every crumb including the apple core.

"Did they hurt you?" Elbeth enquired, catching sight of his maimed left hand.

"I bumped my hand," he told her, not wanting a child to know the horrors he had endured.

"Does it hurt a lot?" she asked.

"Not really," he lied. "Have anything to drink too?" Aragorn asked, changing the subject. How he hated having to beg from a child but he was _so_ thirsty.

"It's only water I wanted some milk." Elbeth replied, giving him the cup, which he drained greedily before handing it back to her. Her small hands felt frozen now.

"You _must_ go now or you will catch a chill," Aragorn insisted, "Thank you so much. Do not tell anyone you have seen me or they might be angry with you!"

"I will visit you again .I like you better than I like them and I won't tell!" Elbeth announced, bending to take the cup and then to his surprise, kissing him on the brow before picking up the candle and leaving as silently as she had come.

Aragorn could have wept again at the first loving gesture since he was captured. A naturally loving and affectionate man, he had greatly missed the love and warmth that he had grown accustomed to these past years. Even in the wilderness, there had been his horse that would nuzzle his hand for an apple or handful of hay.

Elbeth was true to her word and nearly every night, she would come and bring him food and drink, ignoring Aragorn's pleas to be careful, though if she had not fed him, he wondered how near to starvation he would be, as often the food he was given by his captors was inedible even for one as famished as he. He assumed their aim was to weaken him so much that he would not know what he was signing.

Much as he hated the thought of a child spending time in a damp and dismal cellar or seeing anyone in a condition such as he was in, as often his face was bruised and he was splattered with blood, he did not know what he would have done without both her friendly little face and the extra food and water.

He tried to hide his wounds from her under the thin blanket, but although she asked no further questions, he suspected she had some idea of what they were doing to him as her small face was often puckered in distress when she saw him.

Despite Elbeth's visits, Aragorn grew increasingly despondent as the days passed with no sign of rescue. He was certain that the thought bonds he shared with Arwen and Faramir would tell them he was still alive. Even here he could sense them both in his mind and knew they could do the same but how could they ever find him? As he grew weaker, though, so did the bond and he could feel his last link with his loved ones slipping away as his strength faded.

Yet, he had clung to hope until today. When Faramir had walked in, his heart had soared with hope that his loving and faithful Steward had come to rescue him, mixed with the fear that he had been captured too.

Then all hope had died in that dreadful moment when Faramir had struck him and spewed forth his hatred.

The blow, he had barely felt, but his Steward's words and actions had broken his heart.

TBC

A/N

_A very grateful thank you to my reviewers for your much appreciated comments and the sweet poem. I have almost reached 400 reviews!_

_Lorena Bobbitt was a woman who castrated her husband._

_I felt I needed to describe some of Aragorn's suffering to show just what is at stake._

_I would love to see the villains trampled by horses or elephants as in that novel!_


	21. Staring into the Abyss

_These Characters are the property of the Estate of J. R. R Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story has been written for pleasure and no profit has or will be made from it._

**He who fights against monsters should see to it that he does not become a monster in the process. And when you stare persistently into an abyss, the abyss also stares into you.-Friedrich Nietzsche**

**Warning – This chapter contains torture and may distress sensitive readers. It was not easy to write as I think this part of the story is the darkest I have ever written.**

Despite Faramir's cruel betrayal, Aragorn could not bring himself to hate his former friend, for had not Faramir suffered dreadfully and almost died because of his folly but a few short months ago?

He loved him as a parent did a son and what father would hate his own child? In Faramir, he had believed he had found a kindred spirit and lifelong friend but it had all proved to be nothing but a cruel deception.

It seemed that a King could never choose a friend from amongst those who might lay claim to his throne, as they could so easily turn against him.

He had believed from their Thought Bond that Faramir bore him no malice over his time in prison, but obviously, the rebel lords had ignited some hidden spark of resentment that the Steward had suppressed then fanned the flames to entice him into their web. Maybe if like Eowyn, Faramir had blamed him at the time and vented his fury upon him, this would never have happened?

Yet, he could hardly believe his own eyes that his friend, who had been so loyal and loving and freely shared his thoughts with him, could be so fickle as to have become a traitor.

If it had been any other save Faramir, he could have believed that they were dissembling and it was all part of some elaborate scheme to rescue him. But he knew Faramir was incapable of even speaking a falsehood, not even when it would have been the best course of action, such as when Eomer had accused the Steward of making his wife lie with his friends.

No, it would be impossible for Faramir to engage even in a simple deception, not to mention such a complex one. Faramir could only have rescued him openly, most likely by force of arms with the King's Guard and his own White Company at his side.

Another factor, which also puzzled him, was why Faramir had not used his signet ring to seal the marriage document, as he had once shown him how it worked. He could only assume that he had forgotten, since it must have been over a year ago and they had both consumed a fair amount of wine at the time. Not that either of them had ever drunk to excess, but it had been sufficient to made learning complicated instructions rather difficult.

He felt far more sorrow and hurt than anger towards his Steward, as they would both now surely die soon. His hopes of rescue had lain mostly with Faramir, as he was the most well versed man alive in Gondorian politics and geography as well as the most intelligent and loyal. Or so he had wrongly believed, for no doubt Faramir had even informed the rebels that he went unarmed to the Houses of Healing and was weary after draining his strength from prolonged healing sessions over many weeks.

The rebels would kill the poor fool once he had served their purpose and he could only hope they might be reconciled in the afterlife.

All that was left to him now, was to protect Arwen and Eldarion as best he could by refusing to sign the document and hope that Arwen would seek help from Rohan to protect her and their son and secure his right to the crown.

He sighed as he thought of Eomer, so hot headed and impulsive, yet a loyal and loving friend, who once healed of his head injury, had been full of contrition over his fight with Faramir. It seemed though that the young King of Rohan's reservations about his brother in law had been all too perceptive. How ironic that Eomer, not noted for insights had seen, what he Aragorn had missed!

His melancholy musings were interrupted by the entrance of the burly servant who was always present when they tortured him. Ominously tonight, the man carried a sharp knife and a brazier filled with heated coals.

The Lords of Lamedon and Ringlo Vale then entered accompanied by Faramir who was staring fixedly at the floor. Hanna trailed behind them giggling and clutching a knife of her own.

Aragorn tried to brace himself for the inevitable pain he knew that would follow.

The servant placed a lighted torch in the sconce on the wall and retreated to the back of the cellar, a look of gleeful anticipation on his heavy features.

Aragorn wondered where the Lord of Lossarnach was tonight, as of those who appeared to be the chief conspirators; he seemed to have the least appetite for torture and usually looked away or suggested they leave him more time to reflect.

He almost pitied the young man whom he knew was married to Fosco's daughter and seemed a reluctant rather than enthusiastic member of the group .He had never been left alone with Aragorn as if the others feared the King might influence him to change sides.

Devorin was carrying a cattle brand while Fosco clutched the now familiar decree commanding the marriage of Eldarion and Elbeth together with quill and ink and Aragorn's signet ring.

He waved the parchment in front of Aragorn's face. "Sign this tonight, Elessar and save yourself a good deal of pain! You can see that resistance is futile as even your own Steward has turned against us!"

"I would advise you to sign!" Faramir's voice sounded rough and he still did not meet Aragorn's gaze. Fosco eyed him suspiciously.

"Sign, you fool!" Faramir said in a more menacing tone," I would see my niece have her rightful place!" He aimed a halfhearted kick at Aragorn's legs.

"Shame on you, son of Denethor! I believed you once to be a man of honour, I see now that you have none!" Aragorn replied, looking directly at Faramir, noticing he was elaborately dressed in the colours of Rohan rather than of Gondor. The Steward turned away, unable to meet his gaze.

"Why are you doing this?" Aragorn asked his Steward.

"You stole my birthright, took my rightful place, humiliated me and had me beaten in prison!" Faramir replied. "Lord Lamedon has offered me redress for my wrongs!"

Aragorn sighed inwardly. It was just as he had feared.

"This stubborn creature refuses to listen to reason. Words are a waste of breath with him!" said Fosco, punching the helpless prisoner in the ribs as he spoke.

Aragorn flinched but made no sound and glared defiantly at his tormentors.

Fosco nodded to the servant who came forward and snatched away the filthy blanket that covered the King. "We are taking this privilege away from you first," he said," I warn you your clothes will be next if you do not cooperate."

"Let me try to persuade him!" Hanna said gleefully, brandishing her knife.

"Later, my dear," Devorin told her. "I promise you will have your turn."

Hanna giggled.

Fosco nodded to the butcher, who came forward, knife in hand. Without warning, he sliced it across the back of Aragorn's injured hand.

This time, the King was unable to prevent himself from crying out.

"Sign now and spare yourself further pain!" Fosco demanded.

"Never!" Aragorn replied, regaining his composure. He felt as if he could hardly breathe and his hand throbbed painfully, but never would he betray his wife and child. Nor would he hand his people over to the clutches of these miscreants.

"Why do you persist in your foolishness, Elessar?" Devorin asked, "You have no more autonomy now than one of my cattle!" He plunged the brand into the brazier as he spoke." As it seems you have not learned that yet, we shall have to teach you better than the Wizard and Elves who placed you over us did!"

"Undo your shirt!" Fosco ordered, "Branding you like one of the cattle in the field outside should remove some of your delusions!"

"I take no orders from traitors!" Aragorn replied defiantly.

"You are the traitor by depriving me of my rights!" Faramir snarled," The claim of Isildur's heirs was rejected by my ancestor but still you took the throne!"

"If I remember rightly, you were the first in Gondor to hail me as King, Lord Faramir!" Aragorn retorted, "It is as well your ancestors did not change their allegiances as faithlessly as you have done!"

"Enough talk!" Fosco snapped, "I give you one final chance to sign! We have treated you gently until now but rest assured, we shall show you the true meaning of pain very soon We will stop at nothing to make you sign the authorisation for the marriage! Proud and stubborn though you are, I assure you that we will break you!"

"Never!" Aragorn replied, "Unlike some I keep my word!"

Fosco beckoned to the servant, who held Aragorn down while he bared the King's shoulder.

Hanna giggled, " I could think of a far better place to apply a hot iron to a man!" she smirked.

"Maybe it would be better to brand him on the face?" Fosco mused.

"Better still on the rump like I would any other animal that is my property," Devorin chortled.

"Why don't you let me do it?" Hanna pleaded. "I can think of a better place still!"

Fosco ignored her as he retrieved the now red-hot glowing brand from the brazier but instead of advancing upon the helpless man, he turned to Faramir.

"Here is a good chance for you to begin to avenge your wrongs and show your commitment to our cause!" he said, "You brand him!"

Fixing his features in a mirthless grin,Faramir took the brand with a trembling hand and steeled himself to apply it to Aragorn's flesh.

The King watched in horror. Surely Faramir, his loving and gentle natured friend could never so much as torture a fly, far less one he had but a few weeks since professed his deep love for. He tried to force him to meet his eye, but Faramir deliberately avoided his gaze.

Aragorn hoped that he was at least ashamed of his cruel and treacherous actions. He noticed that he even wore the Ring of Barahir on his finger. To think that his once dearest friend was not only a traitor but a thief as well!

"Do not destroy your soul as well as your honour, Faramir!" he said quietly, as concerned about his former friend as himself.

TBC

A/N

_A very big thank you to all my reviewers. You have now taken me past the 400 mark with your much appreciated comments, poems and playlets! A warm welcome to readers old and new._

_A special thank you to Raksha for suggesting tonight's quote and helping me clarify some plot details._

"_Lesser the Zerper" is Elbeth's interpretation of "Elessar the usurper."_

_I hope I have now explained better why Aragorn is fooled by Faramir's act_.


	22. The Unkindest Cut of all

_These Characters are the property of the Estate of J. R. R Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story has been written for pleasure and no profit has or will be made from it._

**This was the most unkindest cut of all;  
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,  
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,  
Quite vanquished him.**

**William Shakespeare (1564–1616), Julius Caesar, act 3, sc. 2**

**Warning – This chapter contains torture and may distress sensitive readers. It was not easy to write as I think this part of the story is the darkest I have ever written.**

"Hurry! It is cooling fast!" Devorin said impatiently. "Maybe we should let Lady Hanna try her methods of persuasion?"

"My arm is still weak after all the ill treatment I suffered." Faramir said, by way of excuse, taking care to avoid Aragorn's reproachful gaze. He could see that where his shoulder had been bared, the flesh was bruised and discoloured. Causing him further pain seemed cruel beyond measure." I have never branded an animal before," he added.

The Steward struggled to remain impassive as he battled with a tumult of emotions. How could he inflict such pain on anyone, never mind his King and dearly loved friend? Yet, to refuse would reveal his true intentions and condemn both Aragorn and himself to certain death. He had chosen this path and would have to follow it now to the end, however bitter.

"Maybe it would be better if I were to do it?" Fosco suggested, "I know you once supported the usurper so this must be hard for you, Lord Faramir." He moved towards him to take the brand from his hand.

"It needs applying for at least three seconds," Devorin informed them," You do it, Fosco, if we wait for Lord Faramir to decide whom he truly supports, we will be here a very long time. It was a mistake to invite him here!"

"You dare to question my honour, Lord Devorin?"Faramir retorted. In his heart, he tried to send a silent apology to his King, then swiftly, he raised the brand and brought it down on Aragorn's bare shoulder.

A stench of burning flesh combined with an agonised scream of pain from the King assailed his senses as he forced himself to count to three.

Fosco snatched the brand away and flung it back into the brazier. " I told you Lord Faramir was loyal to us, would you insult a valuable ally?" he demanded of Devorin.

"You have finally convinced me of your loyalty, Lord Faramir, though you should have branded his face!" Devorin sneered, "Why not let everyone see that the once proud King Elessar is now no more than one of my cattle!"

"Sign the paper you fool!" Fosco ordered, waving it under Aragorn's nose "Or at least put your seal on it! Or do you want us to choose where to brand you next?"

"Let's strip him now!" Hanna suggested gleefully.

The servant moved towards Aragorn and shook him. As he got no response, Devorin punched him viciously in the belly.

"You are wasting your time!" Fosco shrugged, "The weakling has fainted so there is no point in trying to persuade him further tonight. Leave his clothes until he is aware enough to feel the humiliation of losing them. We will seek our beds and try again tomorrow to beat some sense into this fool."

He led the way out of the cellar. Faramir was the last to leave. He stole a last glance at Aragorn before the torch was extinguished. The King lay senseless, his noble features contorted with agony .His shoulder was now disfigured with the cipher of Ringlo Vale branded on his flesh.

"Are you certain I cannot change your mind about the girl I offered you, Lord Faramir?" Devorin enquired," I am certain you would find her a most delightful companion to celebrate your joining us with!"

"No, thank you, not tonight. I would like time to try to think of a way to get Elessar to sign, as he is proving so stubborn. I had hoped my presence would suffice to persuade him." Faramir replied.

"Maybe after your deeds of tonight, he will change his mind," Devorin replied, " I am certain we will succeed tomorrow though, for no man could endure the pain we are going to inflict on him then!"

Hastily excusing himself and overcome by nausea, the Steward rushed to the privy where he swiftly lost his supper.

Still retching slightly, he made his way to his room and locked the door. Throwing himself on the bed, he wept, muffling his sobs in the pillow, so that none might hear.

During his years as a soldier, he had seen and done much that had sickened him, but this was far, far worse, as he had never harmed any, save in the heat of battle when it was a fight for survival and a question of either killing or being killed.

Harming an unarmed man was outside every known code of honour. It shocked him to discover that he was even capable of such a deed. Branding helpless victims was the behaviour of the minions of the Dark Lord not an honourable soldier. Yet, if he had refused, Aragorn's one hope of rescue would have been lost. He desperately prayed to the Valar to forgive the evil he had done in hope of achieving good.

He knew Aragorn well enough now not to fear a traitor's death at his hands, if by some miracle they both escaped from here. He expected no worse punishment than banishment for his cruel deed, as Aragorn was merciful and very compassionate, but whether he could ever forgive himself was a different matter entirely.

Aragorn's warning had been only too true. Tonight, he had destroyed his own soul. When he had agreed to play the traitor try to save his lord, he had expected it would be dangerous and known it would be unpleasant. However, to have to sink to such deeds of depravity as this was beyond what he could ever have imagined in his worse nightmares.

He was aware too now; of a terrible emptiness inside him and realised, that Aragorn had unsurprisingly severed the thought bond. He knew now what Arwen had meant about the sensation of having one's soul torn asunder.

He poured the icy water from the pitcher on his washstand into the bowl, then pulled off all his clothes and began to wash. He felt as if every inch of his body were covered with some nameless filth, but however hard he scrubbed, which he did until his flesh was raw, he felt no cleaner. Eventually, he gave up his hopeless task and dressed again in clean clothing.

The heartache was almost more than he could bear. How he wished he were at home with Eowyn beside him. He longed to feel her arms around him and benefit from her strength and practical common sense. Part of him envied her for not being Numenorean, for she could never feel the pain of a severed thought bond, though at the same time, she could never know its beauty and joy.

He forced himself to try and rest, trying to preserve his sanity by filling his mind with images of his beautiful wife although he dared not picture her with Elestelle, so closely did they both associate their daughter with the King. Then, would Eowyn ever want to set eyes on him again, after what he had become?

He turned his thoughts back to Aragorn. From what the treacherous lords had said, this was his last chance to think of a way to save him before they slowly tortured him to death.

Overwhelmed and exhausted, Faramir finally fell asleep.

When Aragorn regained consciousness, he found himself alone in the darkness; the silence broken only by the sound of his own laboured breathing.

His shoulder throbbed painfully and his ribs and belly felt bruised and painful. Sweat poured from his brow, making him suspect that he was becoming feverish as result of his infected wounds and growing weakness.

Total despair gripped him now that Faramir had willingly joined in torturing him, not only that but humiliating him by branding him like a farm animal.

How could a bond that was supposed to endure for a lifetime, be so heartlessly cast aside after a few short months? Especially as those of Numenorean lineage were noted for their loyalty and the enduring depth of love, they showed to their chosen friends. However, could he have been so misguided as to have loved Faramir so dearly and looked upon him as the son he had yearned for, for so long?

Yet, still he could not bring himself to either curse or hate his betrayer.

Tonight he had done something he would not have imagined he would ever have to do, broken a Thought Bond. Usually to do such a thing would destroy those who had shared it, but after such a betrayal, severing it would have little or no effect on Faramir.

He had broken the bond by the force of his will before his heart broke first, though maybe that would have been better, as there was nothing in store now but ever increasing pain followed by death. He would give back the Gift sooner than risk betraying his wife and child to the clutches of these monsters.

His thoughts turned to Arwen and his son and he then he could not hold back the tears. His loving, devoted and beautiful wife had given up everything for him and he had hoped in return, he could give her many years of happiness as she ruled at his side and they raised their children together. Yet after less than four years of marriage, he would leave her a widow and in dire peril from their enemies, if she did not fade first from grief.

He tried to reach out to her with his mind and tell her how much he loved her and to be brave and strong .He was so weak now, he could not reach her.

His body throbbed in agony. He had unwittingly placed his wife and child in grave danger, his best friend had betrayed him and his country was at the mercy of traitors. He had tried his utmost be a good King and this was his reward.

The door opened quietly and the now familiar form of Elbeth, tiptoed into the room. Setting down her candle, she hurried to his side.

He tried to blink back his tears, but it was too late and she was kneeling beside him wiping away his tears with the sash of the robe, she wore over her nightgown and kissing his brow.

Her innocent devotion made him weep all harder. Especially knowing as he did, that she was surely destined to be as much a victim as he was. Aware, he had not long left and not wishing her to see him in an even worse condition, he reached a decision.

"Why are you crying, Strider?" she asked, " Has someone hurt you? Let me kiss it better!"

"You already have, Elbeth," he assured her, "I am sad, as I will be leaving soon and shall not see you again."

TBC

_A/N I have moved one paragraph from the previous chapter to this one as it seemed to fit better here._

_A big thank you to all my reviewers for your greatly appreciated comments and the touching poem._

_The Thought Bond requires a touch to the head and 'being on the same wavelength' to work._


	23. You faithless, most faithful of friends!

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Du treulos treuster Freund! (You faithless, most faithful of friends!) -Wagner: Tristan und Isolde.**

**Warning – This chapter contains extreme angst and may distress some readers**

**I am reloading this chapter after accidentally replacing it with the previous one,my sincere apologies to readers.**

His words caused her to burst into tears.

"Hush, Elbeth, or they will come!" he warned her gently.

"Can I come with you?" she asked, sniffing loudly and making a valiant effort to suppress her tears.

"One day you may, but not just yet." he answered gravely, "Can you remember something for me, little one? It is important"

"I'm not little!" she retorted indignantly, the tears forgotten, "I will be eight on my next birthday.

"You are old enough then to remember what I tell you." Aragorn replied. He would not have thought her older than four or five from her appearance, though her demeanour was far older than that of the average child. He supposed her harsh life with Hanna and her grandmother had caused her lack of inches, as he very much doubted they would have nourished her sufficiently.

"What do you want me to remember?" Elbeth asked impatiently, "I can't if you don't tell me!"

"If you are taken to see Prince Eldarion, you will see his mother, the Queen," Aragorn explained, "When no one else is listening, I want you to tell her this, that Estel loved her and Eldarion very much and that she must go with him to Rohan and take shelter with Eomer. Can you remember that and will you promise?"

"Yes I promise," Elbeth, said solemnly, " I don't want to meet Eldarion though!"

"He is just an infant, a beautiful little baby with a lovely smile and black curls. He should have cut his first tooth by now." Aragorn said wistfully, the tears starting to flow again at the thought of his son. Resolutely, he blinked them away. He was still the King and kings did not weep like infants in front of others!

"I brought you some bread and honey, wine the grown ups left and even a cake!" Elbeth announced, pulling the crumbling food out of the pockets of her robe She handed him a pewter goblet, which had seen better days.

He forced himself to eat but the slowly rising fever made the food taste like sawdust.

"You have the cake!" he told her.

She accepted gratefully and sat munching it while he finished the bread and drank the wine.

"I'd better go now," she said at last, stuffing the empty goblet in her pocket and picking up the candle. "Goodbye, Strider, I'll miss you!"

"I shall miss you too, Elbeth." he replied choking back the tears. "Wait, come here to me a moment!"

Puzzled, she obeyed, accustomed as she was to him urging her to leave quickly.

With a supreme effort, he lifted his hand and placed it on her dark head "Be thou blessed, Elbeth, may the years of thy life be long and happy!" Aragorn said solemnly.

Elbeth felt a sudden surge of something she could not describe. It was like being given a nice present only far better.

Her solemn grey eyes met the King's. "I wish you were my daddy!" she sniffed tearfully.

She took up her candle and with a last look at her mysterious friend; she was gone.

Alone again in the darkness, Aragorn tried to gather what little strength he had left to prepare to surrender the Gift when the new pain they planned to inflict on him became more than he could bear. He tried to reach out with his mind to bid Arwen farewell. However, even that effort proved too much and his thoughts drifted again towards Faramir wondering how, one he loved so much could have betrayed him so cruelly. He soon lapsed into unconsciousness as the fever rose within his tortured body.

The cock crowed, heralding dawn, and rousing Faramir from a few hours of uneasy sleep, which had been filled with nightmares. The waking reality though, was far worse than any horrors his unconscious mind could conjure up. The stench of burning flesh and the sound of Aragorn's agonised cry still seemed to linger in the air, causing nausea to well up inside him again.

Then there was the dreadful void within his soul as if half had been torn away leaving the remaining portion to soon shrivel and die.

He had lost the most beautiful experience he had ever known and with it become the lowest of the low. He was no longer worthy to be even called a man.

Yet he could not waste time dwelling on his unspeakable actions. Today was his last chance to save his King if he were not be even more cruelly humiliated and then slowly tortured to death.

He inwardly cursed himself for having slept after what he had done and when he should have been thinking of a way to rescue Aragorn.

No matter how many times he digested the facts and tried to come up with a better solution, it always eluded him. There seemed to be no way that he could rescue Aragorn from his captors, as not only would he have to smuggle him out undetected, but also get the keys to unlock his chains and he had no idea where they might be, although he suspected they were perhaps attached to Lord Lamedon's belt for safekeeping.

Only one way to spare Aragorn remained; and that was almost too horrible to contemplate.

It seemed now the only help he could offer his friend was to grant him a swift and merciful death.

Sweating heavily, Faramir fingered his dagger and wondered however could he bring himself to plunge it deep into his beloved King's heart

He sat up in bed, and tried and tried to think of some other way. There was none. He could not hope to overpower them all and was certain if he escaped and tried to fetch help, they would do their worst to Aragorn before he could return with troops.

When a few months ago, he believed he had accidentally killed Eomer, that seemed to be the worst crime imaginable, but killing Aragorn would be immeasurably worse. Not only was he the High King, but also the saviour and restorer of Gondor and more than that, Faramir's best and most loved friend who had saved his life and given him everything his father had not.

The Steward got out of bed and dressed quickly, determined to do the dreadful deed before his courage failed. He had no doubt that they would first carry out Hanna's suggestion followed by every cruel and slow torture they could think of until crazed by pain Aragorn would either sign the document commanding the marriage of Eldarion and Elbeth, or more likely will his own death to prevent endangering those he loved.

After sharpening his dagger, Faramir took up a candle and made his way to the cellar where Aragorn was imprisoned. No one challenged him and even if they had done, he was certain he could have easily convinced them that he was having another attempt at persuading the King to sign the document.

The door was unlocked, since there was no way a chained man could escape and Faramir quietly slipped inside.

To his relief, Aragorn was asleep. He drew his dagger and prepared to strike, weighing up how to do it as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Instead, he found himself studying the ravaged, yet still noble features of the friend he had loved ever since their first meeting, when Aragorn had brought him back from the very brink of death.

Memories flashed before him; the day of the coronation, when to his amazement Aragorn had returned the White Rod to him, the King's many attempts to treat his injuries, which he had been too afraid to accept, the kindness so freely given, the time at the Hunting Lodge, when he had lost his nervousness when faced with the greater fear that Aragorn might die, the months when Aragorn had painstakingly nursed him back to health and saved the life of his baby daughter.

How could he kill the man who had done all this for him and yet what other choice did he have?

He would plunge the dagger through Aragorn's heart and then though, much as he desired to die too, endeavour to escape and return to Arwen and submit to whatever death she decreed for him, once he had ensured that Eowyn and Elestelle were safe in Rohan and Eldarion out of the clutches of these monsters.

He knew he should linger no longer, or his resolve would fail.

Yet, he could not deal the fatal blow without a farewell kiss of blessing to one he loved as father, brother, friend, mentor and lord.

Careful not to rouse Aragorn, Faramir knelt beside and murmured, "Farewell dear friend and noblest of Kings! I do this deed not out of hate but from the depths of the love that I bear you and hope beyond the circles of the world that you will know just how much I loved and admired you."

Choking back his tears of grief and horror at what he was about to do, he gently kissed the King's brow. He knew he would never see him again, not even beyond death, as surely he would be cursed to wander forever without rest like the oath breakers who betrayed Isildur.

Aragorn's brow was burning hot with fever. Faramir wavered, wondering if maybe the King was on the verge of dying swiftly and naturally from the Fever, before dismissing the thought .The blood and pus stained shirt he was wearing obviously hid many wounds, an infection from which was causing his fever, especially as his eyes and nose were not red and running, which was the main symptom of the infection ravaging Gondor. Wound fever was serious but victims often recovered and even if not, it took several days or longer to kill.

Grasping the dagger firmly and trying to stop his hand shaking, he prepared to strike.

"I am sorry!" he whispered, "so very sorry! Much rather would I pierce my own heart than yours!"

TBC

_A/N A very big thank you for all your much appreciated reviews and comments and especially Steelelf's beautiful poem, which deserves a page to itself. I hope all my readers will check it out on my reviews page._

_My quote for tonight is what I would have liked as a title for this story but feared only my German readers would understand it. I know I have readers from Germany, France, Hungary, Sweden, the Ukraine, India, The USA, the UK and Australia. Have I missed any countries? I am thrilled so many different nationalities are enjoying my story._

_I hesitated whether or not to update tonight, as so many stories are being updated after the site problems, but your requests decided me to do so._

_I am pleased you are finding the story both horrifying and compelling as that was my idea !_

_I fear you will have to wait and see if more torture is to come or not!_


	24. ’Twere well It were done quickly

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well** **It were done quickly-**

**Macbeth - Shakespeare**

**But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue -Hamlet - Shakespeare.**

Grasping the dagger firmly and trying to stop his hand shaking, Faramir prepared to thrust it deep into Aragorn's heart. He wavered, his hand trembling so much that he almost dropped the blade. However, could he pierce the noblest heart ever found in any man? Maybe it would be easier to cut his throat?

Again, he drew the dagger and this time pressed it against the King's throat. The bitter irony of it all, that he who had so ardently desired the return of the King would be the only Steward in Gondor's long history to commit regicide. He, Faramir, reviled by his father as 'the wizard's pupil', was about to kill that same King that Mithrandir had crowned!

Whatever would Gandalf have said or even his father? He gave a bitter laugh. If he truly were the wizard's pupil, he could think of a way to save Aragorn! He looked even more like Denethor now his features were so worn and haggard, yet whether that made the deed harder or easier, Faramir could not say.

Yet again, he prepared to strike. A spot of crimson blood marked where he had placed the dagger before. All he had to do was to plunge it in deeply and kill his friend without causing him to suffer.

He was on the verge of hysteria now. In his agitation, he clutched at the fabric of his tunic with his other hand He felt the vial of spider venom that Tarostar had given him in his pocket.

A flash of inspiration struck him as the vestiges of a plan by which he had a slender hope of saving Aragorn began to form in his agitated brain.

Aragorn moaned softly. Faramir longed to comfort him but hardened his heart. He knew he must maintain his façade of hatred if his plan was to succeed, but first he needed to gain access to the kitchens and procure what he needed without being observed.

Reluctantly, he left Aragorn in his squalid surroundings and crept back up the steps and along the long stone corridor, which led to the kitchens.

Alone in his prison, Aragorn felt like weeping but even tears would not come now. Just how low had Faramir fallen, not only to have branded him but to come to laugh at his misery and torture him with a knife! He could feel himself growing weaker from his wounds, fever and starvation. Until yesterday though he had still hoped to somehow survive this ordeal but that was before the heartbreak of Faramir's treachery. He knew that most likely now he would not even need his ability to return the Gift.

To Faramir's dismay, despite the earliness of the hour, there were already several servants bustling around in the kitchens.

"You should still be in bed, Lady Elbeth!" he heard a voice saying.

"I'm used to getting up at dawn!" Elbeth's voice replied,"Besides, I'm bored and I like watching you bake the bread!"

"You can come back later, after breakfast, my lady!" the voice replied, "You could get hurt while we're boiling the water and what would your mother say?"

"She's wouldn't care!" Elbeth retorted, "She thinks only about if Lord Devorin likes her new dress!"

"Well, I'd be in trouble if you were hurt, so _please_ go and play now my lady!"

"Will you give me a honey cake if I do?"

"Here you are, Lady Elbeth. Now please let us get on with our work or we will be in trouble!"

Elbeth scampered out of the kitchens with her prize, almost colliding with Faramir on her way out.

"Hello, Lord Faramir!" she said brightly, pleased to see someone she liked. "Would you like some cake? It tastes good!"

Breaking the cake in two, she offered him half of it.

Not wanting to upset her, he took a small bite and handed it back to her. "You can call me, 'Uncle Faramir', " he told her. "Did they not tell you that your father was my brother?"

"I think they did but I forgot." Elbeth replied, "They all say they're my uncles, though I don't think they are. Are you my real uncle then? What about Lesser the Zerper? He told me to call him 'Strider' but is he my uncle too? I don't think he is very well as they hurt him. You're his friend, aren't you? Can't you help him as you're a grown up?"

The innocent prattle tore at Faramir's heart. There was no doubt in his heart now that this was his niece. She had obviously inherited a kind heart from his mother and from Boromir. But to think that she had somehow befriended Aragorn! He felt more ashamed than ever of his own actions.

He had a sudden idea, as Elbeth was obviously familiar with the kitchens.

"Did the cook give you the cake or did you take it?" he asked, despite knowing the answer.

"She gave it me, but I can take anything I want." Elbeth boasted," They give me horrid things to eat like venison and syllabub so I find something nicer like bread and jam. They didn't bring my nurse here so no one tells me what to do now!"

"I should like an onion," said Faramir, "Could you get me one without them catching you?"

"Of course I could!" Elbeth boasted cheerfully, "Just you see! Why do you want a nasty onion though? A cake would be much nicer!"

"I just like onions and I want to play a game with it," Faramir told her. "Do they let you play outside?"

"Of course I can as I'm going to be the Queen!" Elbeth replied.

"Bring it to me by the stables." Faramir told her, "And remember it is a secret! That is all part of the game."

Elbeth put a finger to her lips and then giggled and ran back to the kitchens.

Faramir went outside into the cold early morning air. There was a slight frost, which the rising sun had not yet had time to melt .He shivered while he waited for Elbeth to come. He hoped she would arrive before the rest of the household were abroad, though he could always plead a need for fresh air after too much drinking the night before.

Slipping into the stables, a bored looking lad ignored him while he patted Zachus who was looking out at him from over the door of his stall. He then strolled carelessly round the stable yard until he came to where the sacks of oats were stored. Glancing around to see that no one was looking, he cut a piece of rough sackcloth, which he pocketed.

As soon as he saw Elbeth coming, he sauntered towards her and was rewarded by the feel of an onion being slipped into his hand.

"Told you so!" she said triumphantly, "And I got a nice juicy apple! I had better go back now before Mummy leaves Lord Devorin's room. I'm not calling _him _uncle, I hate him!"

She skipped away as Faramir, secreted his prize in his pocket and made his way back to the cellar, walking as casually as he could.

Once he was inside Aragorn's prison, he sat down beside the motionless King and started to peel the onion in front of his face, while keeping his own head turned away.

Soon Aragorn's eyes began to smart and run. Blinking, he opened them and gazed sadly at Faramir through streaming eyes.

Faramir was sorely tempted to tell him of his rescue plan, but what if anyone were to walk in? If he said nothing, and they did, it would merely appear, he had thought up a new method of torture to inflict on the helpless man.

Relentlessly, the Steward took the sackcloth from his pocket and ignoring his struggles, rubbed it round the King's nose until it was raw and reddened.

"Why are you doing this?" Aragorn reproached him, " I gave you everything I could and loved you as my own son!"

Not daring to reply lest he betrayed himself, Faramir said nothing and kept his head turned away. He could hear them moving around on the floor above. There was no time to explain to the confused and feverish King. It was just too dangerous, especially as now he had devised a plan of rescue.

"Where is Arwen? What have you done to her you traitor?" Aragorn asked accusingly, his fever rising.

With a final vigorous rub of the sackcloth, Faramir rose to his feet, pocketed the onionskins and without a backward glance, made his way quietly back to his room.

A few hours, when Faramir was breakfasting with his host and fellow guests, the burly servant, who had assisted with torturing Aragorn the previous night, entered and spoke quietly in Lord Devorin's ear.

The Lord of Ringlo Vale paled and then addressed the others. "I have reason to believe that Elessar has contracted the fever. " he said grimly, "So we dare not go near him for fear of contagion .I doubt he will last long in his weakened condition. Curse the man! I was determined to get him to sign the document today!"

"How do you know it is the contagion ?"Fosco enquired," It is more likely wound fever !"

"I am told his eyes and nose are red and watering, which is a sure sign,"Devorin replied grimly.

"Trust the stubborn idiot to cheat us!" Faramir said harshly, " I have had the infection, so if you wish, I could go and see if he still lives later. Maybe if we leave him without water for a while, he will sign in desperation!"

" I doubt it," said Devorin," But that is a good idea if you are you are certain you cannot catch the fever. You are our last hope of persuading him .We dare not even risk the servants for fear they pass on the contagion to us!"

Faramir struggled to repress a faint smile. His plan was working even better than he dared hope! "If Elessar dies without authorising the marriage, I shall do everything in my power to see that Lady Elbeth receives all that is due to her .The Queen will no one other than myself to turn to for advice." he told them earnestly.

"You are wise, Lord Faramir," Devorin replied with a smile which did not reach his eyes, leaving the Steward with no illusions at all to his eventual fate at the hands of these ruthless men.

Elbeth stared at Faramir accusingly at his failure to help her friend. "Lesser the Zerper is nice!" she exclaimed, "If he is ill you should get him some medicine to make him better!"

"You do not understand that he is a wicked man," Devorin said patting her on the head condescendingly.

Elbeth scowled.

"You should have done as I suggested to begin with!"Hanna complained," You men were far too soft with Elessar! Now he threatens us all with his contagion!"

After breakfast, Fosco remained at the table drinking to console himself at the setback to his plans, while Devorin flirted with Hanna even more outrageously than the day before. The farmers were all muttering anxiously amongst themselves about the risks of catching the fever, as they were all terrified of it, as one had lost a brother who lived in Minas Tirith to the infection. He blamed Aragorn for his loss as the King had been occupied tending a sick child at the time.

"If you will excuse me, I should like to exercise my horse." Faramir told them as he left the room. Elbeth followed him.

"Why don't you help Strider?" she asked.

"I cannot," Faramir replied, unable to bring himself to look at her.

"Why not?" she persisted, tugging at his sleeve.

"He…he was unkind to me as he rules Gondor when I was meant to. Then he made me walk through the streets wearing a sack and sent me to prison," Faramir replied, knowing he was within earshot of the others.

Elbeth frowned, trying to digest the information " If you won't get Strider some medicine will you play with me?" she asked, hopefully "I'm bored! I want to go out and play."

"Not just yet," he told her, "But maybe later. Could you keep that a secret?"

She nodded gravely and skipped away.

Faramir saddled Zachus and rode him around the grounds, all the time watching to see if he were being observed .It seemed though, that after yesterday's events, he was trusted. He could still scarcely believe how he had managed to commit such a cruel act, which if they escaped from here would most certainly forfeit Aragorn's friendship forever. Yet he would be happy just to know that his King were alive and well, even though the inevitable separation from him would break his heart.

Returning to his room, he retrieved Arwen's tapestry needle from where he had secreted it pinned inside his tunic and dipped it in water. Then carefully, uncorking the vial of spider venom, he dipped the point of the needle in it then carefully put it aside to dry.

Several hours later, after another vast meal, Devorin and his guests were in the dining room carousing. While they were occupied, Faramir made his way back to the cellar where Aragorn lay.

The King tossed and moaned with pain and fever, unable to find a way of getting comfortable because of his wounds and the shackles and vainly trying to moisten his parched lips with his tongue.

Even human instinct that Faramir possessed cried out for him to comfort his friend and ease his plight by at the very least giving him a drink. Yet he had no water with him and dared not fetch any and a single word of comfort might be overheard. If he relaxed his mask of traitor for even a moment, he did not know if he could resume it afterhe had come so near to breaking a few hours ago.

How he wished he had been able to ask Eowyn to wait for him in the cave, as he could see that Aragorn badly needed a skilled healer. He doubted his ability to save the King now, even if he could release him from his prison.

TBC

A/N

_A very big thank you for all your kind comments and reviews. I appreciate every one and I am touched and amazed by your interest, and thrilled to learn I have readers from 14 different countries, and would love to know if there are any more._

_Thank you, Steelelf for your beautiful, touching poem._

_I have loved Wagner's operas since I was 14 for their great music and psychological depth. I hasten to add I only like the music, not Wagner's opinions._

_I was delighted that many of you were familiar with the quote and its meaning._

"_Faithless most faithful of friends" is a paradox, as Faramir loves Aragorn the most and yet is prepared to kill him._

_My aplogies for the problems with the last chapter which I had to repost due to a mistake when correcting a typo._


	25. I am in blood stepp’d in so far

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**I am in blood  
Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,  
Returning were as tedious as go o'er.**

**Shakespeare:**_**Macbeth. Act iii.**_

**_Warning This chapter may disturb sensitive readers._**

Now the time had come to use it, Faramir was starting to fear the spider venom would prove as lethal as his dagger, or even worse, leave Aragorn alive but paralysed. Yet, it represented his only chance of leaving this place alive, slender though it was.

He concluded the back of Aragorn's neck would be the most suitable location to insert the needle, as he did want any wound to be visible. It was doubtful, given Aragorn's condition, that another small wound would be noticeable or even, given their terror of the fever that they would give the body even the most cursory of inspections, but he dared take no risks.

Again, he knelt beside the King, this time daring to touch him with his ungloved hands. Swiftly he lifted Aragorn's head and pushed aside the tangled and filthy hair.

Although barely conscious, the King caught sight of the needle and became aware that further pain was about to be inflicted on him and struggled feebly .He was so weak now, though that Faramir had little trouble in holding him still.

"No, no, please, no!" Aragorn moaned.

That the strongest and noblest man on Arda should have been reduced to this was truly appalling. That he should have played a part in it, even more so, Faramir thought sadly.

"I am sorry but I have to do this!" Faramir murmured. He wanted so much to tell Aragorn how much he loved him, his regret for his ill treatment of him and what his plan entailed, but he dared not delay. Someone might come, or pity might stay his hand. It seemed that even if he could explain, Aragorn was far too ill to comprehend what he was doing.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged the needle deep into Aragorn's flesh.

The King gave a yelp of pain and then went limp. What little colour he had, drained from his face. He ragged breathing ceased. When Faramir felt the side of his neck for a pulse, he could detect none. His heart lurched, for although Tarostar had told him the venom produced this effect, what if he had used too much and Aragorn really was dead? He then pressed his ear to the King's chest in vain search of a heartbeat. He did not undo his shirt, though as it appeared to have adhered to his skin due to dried blood and pus. He dreaded what wounds he might uncover should they escape from this place alive.

Forcing himself to push such thoughts aside, Faramir threw the needle into the bucket and steeled himself to put the most daring part of his plan into action.

He noisily rushed up the stairs and burst into the dining room, where Fosco, Hanna and Devorin were still seated around the table drinking wine..

"Elessar is dead!" he announced, " I just now went to look at him and he is not breathing!"

Hanna started to laugh wildly and raised her glass as if in a toast. "Good riddance!" she tittered.

Elbeth burst into tears.

"What are you crying for?" Hanna demanded, "That usurper murdered my mother and brother! I only regret I never got round to having a bit more fun with him, I was looking forward to taking his manhood!"

" I liked him. He was my friend!" Elbeth insisted.

"Go to your room and stay there!" Hanna retorted, slapping her daughter viciously across the face.

"If you must beat her, do so where none can see!" Fosco said harshly, as a servant let the protesting Elbeth away. Devorin and Fosco started to pace the room; their wine forgotten while Hanna remained at the table.

"Trust the usurper to escape us!" Devorin said grimly, "What shall we do now about the marriage contract?"

"How will we dispose of the carcass without catching the contagion?" Fosco fretted, "We can do nothing until that threat is removed."

"I could do it, " Faramir offered," I will take no harm from the fever and I would not have you risk yourselves!"

"It will be a difficult task for one man with an injured arm to dig a deep enough grave." Devorin protested.

"I saw several disused wells on the way here." Faramir told him, "The body could be thrown down one of those where no one would ever find it. It would be better than burying it where wild animals might uncover the grave."

"You have inherited your father's wisdom, Lord Faramir!" Fosco exclaimed, " That is a wise plan indeed. It would be prudent to wait until nightfall, though. You must be careful not to be seen Peasants roam these woods ever since Elessar passed his foolish laws! All that will change soon! I will find a sack and the servants will help you get the body on to a horse. "

"My thanks," said Faramir, " I will enjoy disposing of the carcass of the one who caused me so much suffering. A pity, though, we could not get him to sign the document. I will endeavour though, to see the marriage goes ahead for I want to see my brother's heiress get her rightful dues. I believe I have some influence over the Elven witch, especially as she knows her son's accession depends on my goodwill!"

"It was a fortunate day indeed when you decided to join us! I will see the corpse is brought to you as soon as it gets dark." Fosco enthused, clapping Faramir on the shoulder while the younger man struggled to hide his disgust. "Have some wine and we will drink to your success!" he said before sitting down again, beckoning a servant to fill his glass.

Faramir drained his glass but waved away a servant who was about to refill it.

"I had better keep my head clear for later but I will make up for it when I return!" Faramir told them. "Maybe you will have that girl you told me about taken to my room tonight?"

"You won't regret it. She will show you delights I doubt you will have experienced before!" Devorin assured him. "How do you want her prepared?"

"Just tell her to bathe and wear clean clothing." Faramir replied, wondering whatever Eowyn would say.

"Would you not like her as soon as she is ready?" Devorin enquired. He had now returned to his place beside Hanna and was sliding his hand down her ample cleavage. She giggled and half-heartedly tried to nibble his fingers.

I will save that pleasure for later. A man needs a woman to keep him warm on a cold night! Do you wish me to collect the body myself as I have had the contagion?"

"Indeed not, Lord Faramir!" Devorin protested. "You could injure yourself bringing it up the stairs. Two of the servants can be persuaded to do it. If they try to refuse I'll threaten to lock them in with the rotting carcass!"

"They will need quarantining afterwards," Faramir warned, inwardly groaning at the further rough treatment that was most likely to be metered out to the King. "I will go and prepare now .It should be dark soon."

"A servant will tell you when all is ready," Devorin replied, " I think I will retire too. Come, Hanna!" He rose to his feet, pulling a giggling and obviously tipsy Hanna with him. Her gown was now off her shoulders and almost down to her waist, displaying a large expanse of curvaceous bare flesh.

He followed them from the room and made his way to his bedchamber and sat on the bed debating what to do next. He could only hope that Aragorn would neither come round nor be further injured when he was brought to him. If he could only leave with him, he would ride as swiftly as he could to the cave where he had concealed his supplies and hope that they could remain there undetected.

He feared that it was already too late and he was indeed taking a corpse for burial, albeit a more dignified one than the traitors intended.

Then there was the problem of Elbeth. While she remained with the rebel lords, even if by some miracle he escaped safely with Aragorn, the King would never be secure, neither would Eldarion. Therefore, his only options were to either take her with them or kill her.

Killing her would be by far the safest and easiest option. She was too dangerous to live and how could he deal with a sick man and a demanding child who would most likely betray him however inadvertently? With a mother like Hanna and uncle like Fennas, she was most likely to grow up as evil and deranged as they !

She was his biggest obstacle now, as alive or dead, once her loss was discovered, his deception would be uncovered. His absence could be explained by some mishap befalling him, at least for a time, but she was their most valuable asset and once they discovered her body…

Faramir shuddered and gave a start. To what level had he sunk that such a thought should even cross his mind? His soul was lost indeed that he could even contemplate such an act! How could he kill a helpless innocent, and not just any child but his own niece? What manner of a father was he to think of harming any child?

Within less than twenty-four hours he had tortured, drugged and attempted to kill his liege lord and had thought of killing an innocent child! He had become what he most despised and was no better than one of the Dark Lord's minions!

Elbeth would have to come with him whatever the risks. He could only hope she would come willingly but if not, he would have to use the spider venom on her too, and smuggle her out and hide her somewhere before Aragorn was brought to him. He wished now that he had not thrown the needle away but he could always use the tip of his dagger.

If only Boromir had adhered to the Numenorean standards of chastity and fidelity! Even his father had never deviated from the moral ideals of their people and would never even have dreamt of taking his pleasure with such as Hanna!

He could now hear a mixture of giggles, grunts and groans coming from Devorin's nearby chamber. Faramir hoped a mixture of inebriation and lust would keep him and Hanna occupied for some time.

After making certain that no one was following him, he decided to try to discover where Elbeth was. She was not difficult to locate as he could hear her sobbing and banging on a door to be let out as soon as he turned into the next corridor.

"Release me!" she screamed, "Or when I'm queen, I'll cut your head off!"

Faramir was suddenly reminded of his brother, as a small boy throwing a similar tantrum and threatening to execute his tutor for refusing to let him miss lessons to watch the soldiers parading through the city after a rare victory. The reminder that she was not of Hanna's blood alone heartened him.

The key was in the lock so he unfastened the door and went in. It seemed that despite her youth, Elbeth had been given a huge and elaborately furnished bedroom to herself.

"Uncle Faramir!" she exclaimed," I don't like being shut in here. Let me out! And it's not fair you didn't help Strider!"

TBC

_A/N_

_A very big thank you to all my much appreciated reviewers. You have now helped me pass the 500 reviews mark, which amazes me after only 24 chapters! I am amazed to see that you come from so many countries. Do I have any African readers, I wonder._

_A special thank you to Steelelf for the touching poem._

_I have not found this story any more pleasant to write than it is to read.Sometimes my Muse leads me in strange directions._


	26. Treachery is noble when aimed at tyranny

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Warning – This chapter contains violence and may distress sensitive readers**

**Treachery is noble when aimed at tyranny. -** **Pierre Corneille (1606–1684)**

**For Raksha who helped me with a major plot feature of this chapter.**

He placed a finger to his lips. "If you can be very quiet and keep it a secret, I will take you out riding later as a special treat," he told her, well aware that he was taking a great risk.

"Where will you take me?" Elbeth demanded.

"To see the woods by moonlight." Faramir told her. "Do you know about the ruined cottage in the gardens?

"I play there when I'm bored. When they're drunk, they don't notice that I'm not there." Elbeth replied.

"I want you to go there and wait for me but you must not tell anyone. It is our secret." Faramir said deciding to trust her. He went over to her window and looked out. It was almost dark and the moon was rising from behind the clouds "You need to wear your warmest clothes," he told her

"Very well but I want to go now!" Elbeth complained, "They leave me locked in here for hours while mummy is with Lord Devorin. I wish she would play with me sometimes. My other mummy did."

"Can you get out without anyone noticing?" Faramir asked. "I promise we will play a game if you can meet me without getting caught."

" Of course I can, it is easy!" Elbeth boasted," I just go through the door by the kitchens. It is never locked."

The Steward looked around the room for something warm for her to put on. He had noticed when he had been out riding earlier that it promised to be an exceptionally cold night. Picking up a fur cloak from a chair, he noticed the Elessar lying discarded on her bedside table.

He picked it up and pinned it to the cloak then handed it to her. "Put this on!" he said.

Elbeth nodded her agreement then asked, "How do horses see in the dark? I've not been out riding at night before. It should be exciting! What about my horse? How do I saddle her without anyone knowing? I can't reach yet to do it myself!"

"Horses are clever and know their way. You can ride my horse." Faramir told her, wondering however she thought up so many questions," I will see you in the old cottage soon then. Remember it is a secret! If anyone catches you, tell them you are just playing a game on your own! "

He peered out of the door and once satisfied no one was in sight, told her to go and wait for him. He then stuffed a pillow under the bedcovers to make the bed look occupied and then turned the key outside again.

Thankful it seemed that he would not be forced to use the spider venom on her, Faramir returned to his room and changed into his own travelling clothes, taking care to leave the room looking as if he intended to return with his nightshirt on the bed and his clothes for dinner left out. Carefully, he buckled on his sword. At least it seemed reasonable to take it when riding out alone at night.

He paced the floor impatiently; terrified that something would go wrong. His brain whirled with endless troubled thoughts. What if Aragorn really was dead, or what if he moved and betrayed the fact he still lived? What if Elbeth betrayed him? What if he were followed? Maybe he should flee and ride to Minas Tirith for help? However, it would be too late to save Aragorn by the time he returned.

He was so lost in thought that he hardly noticed that it had grown dark and was startled when a knock came on the door.

Aragorn had felt Faramir cruelly piece his neck with the needle and found himself unable now to speak or even move a muscle. Completely paralysed, he was more a prisoner now than ever, trapped as he was not only in the cellar, but his own body too. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he came to again only to be roughly thrown into a sack.

"The sooner they bury this one the better!" he heard a voice saying.

"I think they mean to throw him down a well!" said a second voice.

"Better if they burned him before he infects us all!" the first voice said.

With his horror of confined spaces, this was the worse nightmare to be slowly suffocated and Faramir had known it. How could his Steward be capable of such depths of cruelty? He felt himself dragged across the floor and up the steps, the pain of his wounds becoming unbearable at such treatment. Then mercifully everything went black.

"Lord Faramir, they are waiting for you!" a servant's voice called.

With pretended nonchalance, Faramir went downstairs and was met by two frightened looking servants. Behind them, they dragged a large sack, bumping it roughly along the flagged stone floor.

Faramir struggled to repress his emotions. To think that the High King and saviour of Gondor was being treated with less reverence than a sack of grain! Even the corpse of a vagrant or a criminal would be treated with more respect .His father had been most meticulous in such matters as had Aragorn.

"We will tie it on a packhorse for you." one of the servants said, " Do you want us to come with you, his lordship said we must offer?" He looked terrified at the mere thought.

"I will manage well enough. I doubt the usurper weighed very much and I was accustomed to dealing with bodies for burial when I was in the army. Have my horse brought to the door!"

Faramir waited as they took the sack outside, reluctant to witness the spectacle of the King being so unceremoniously flung across the pack animal.

It was obvious they were terrified of Faramir desiring their company, which was exactly what he wanted, for if anyone had come with him, he would have been obliged to kill them. Much as they deserved it for what they had done to Aragorn, he much preferred the law to mete out justice.

The servants returned. "All is ready for you now, your lordship, "one said, "Lord Lamedon bade me to tell you that when you return a bath will be prepared for you and fresh clothing laid out .He suggests you burn what you are wearing now to avoid infection to any here!"

" I will do his lordship's bidding I hope he will also have a girl waiting for me to take my pleasure with! Tell him it may take me some time to dispose of the body where none will find it." Faramir replied as he strode out through the doorway.

Mounting his horse, he took the pack animal's rope and rode off into the night with it beside him.

He forced himself to appear nonchalant and not to urge the horses to a trot as he made his way towards the ruined cottage.

To his horror, he heard riders approaching. He placed his hand on his sword and wheeled round to face them. It was Fosco and the burly servant who had been there when he had branded the King.

Fosco drew up alongside him and smiled rather drunkenly, "We thought we'd come with you at least part of the way, Lord Faramir," he said, "It seemed unfair to expect you to do this alone when you are still regaining your strength after Elessar's ill treatment."

"That is kind of you," Faramir replied, "Do you not fear the contagion though?"

"The healers say it is unlikely that one can catch it out of doors," Fosco replied," Surely you would welcome some company?"

"Indeed I would," Faramir replied, trying desperately to think of a plan. He suddenly reined to a halt. "I think the carcass is slipping from the packhorse," he said, "Will you hold my mount while I secure the ropes? He is rather skittish when the moon is full."

He slid from Zachus' back, made his way to the packhorse, and pretended to fiddle with the ropes securing the sack, all the while preparing to draw his sword. In his other hand, he held his dagger.

The servant took hold of Zachus' bridle.

"We'll have a nice drink together when we get back, Lord Faramir eh?" Fosco lurched towards Faramir drunkenly and attempted to throw his arm around him.

Swiftly, Faramir drawn sword in hand turned and rammed the blade into Fosco's guts. He fell backwards with a cry a look of hurt surprise in his eyes. " Treachery! Thought you…were my friend…" he gasped.

Faramir's only reply was to pull out his sword and this time despatch him through the heart with it.

The servant belatedly ran to his master's aid but Faramir was too quick for him and unhesitatingly cut his throat.

Faramir wiped his blade on the grass, without a second glance, retrieved the pack animal's rope, and remounted Zachus. It was the first time in his life, he had killed an unarmed man in cold blood and instead of guilt he felt a thrill of what could almost have been described as pleasure at the deed..

He listened carefully for any sign that he was being followed but there was none. It seemed that those who were sober were all too afraid of catching the fever from a corpse! Aragorn had told him the fever was transmitted through the breath of an infected person but even the healers laughed at such a notion. He could only hope it would be some time before Fosco's absence was noticed.

The cottage was in sight of the house, although partially shielded by trees. Fortunately, no one seemed to have noticed a flickering candle in the ruins.

Elbeth ran out to meet him as he approached." I was frightened you wouldn't come!" she said, "It's scary here, I don't like it!"

" I am sorry, Elbeth." Faramir said sincerely, as he dismounted and quickly slashed some holes in the sack with his dagger. He then lifted her up in front of him, wondering how much he could tell her and whether he would have to gag her to stop her crying out. "How would you like to come with me for a camping trip?" he asked. "We can play at being explorers!"

"I'd love to!" she replied, bouncing up and down in the saddle in her excitement. "Will you really take me away from them?"

"I shall take you tonight." Faramir told her, "But you must be very good and quiet."

"I will." she replied, nestling closer to him. The Elfstone on her cloak shimmered in the moonlight. At least the precious gem was removed from the hands of the traitors! "What's in the sack?" she asked, unable to contain her natural curiosity.

"Something very precious." he told her. "Now you must be very quiet as we are playing hide and seek!"

" I love hide and seek!" she exclaimed delightedly.

"Quiet now, or we might be found!" he cautioned.

They rode on in silence for another mile or so until Faramir finally felt he dared stop and release Aragorn from the confines of the sack. He dreaded what condition the King would be in now.

TBC

A/N

_A big thank you to all my reviewers for your kind comments and the lovely poem._

_I apologise for not being able to update on Thursday._

_The truth about Boromir and Hanna will eventually be revealed._


	27. Frosty wind made moan

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

_With thanks to Susan W for her advice about how much Zachus could carry._

**In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,  
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;  
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,  
In the bleak midwinter, long ago. - Christina Rossetti**

Dismounting, he turned to Elbeth and tried to explain to her. "Your friend Strider is in this sack," he told her, "He is really my friend too and I am trying to rescue him .I had to give him some special medicine to make him go to sleep and put him in a sack so that no one would know I was taking him away."

"I thought he died because you weren't friends any more and wouldn't give him any medicine." Elbeth sounded bewildered.

"I was playing a pretending game," Faramir explained, "I did give him some medicine to make him look as if he were dead so I could help him escape."

"Good!" Elbeth replied, "They were hurting him and he needed rescuing! Will he get better now?"

" I hope so," Faramir replied," I intend to look after him now and give him lots of medicines."

"I can help you look after him as he's my friend too!" Elbeth replied.

Faramir very much doubted that she could, but had neither time nor inclination to argue with her. To his relief, she accepted the situation without further explanation.

Swiftly, he cut the ropes securing the sack and lifted it gently down from the packhorse. Unfastening it, he pulled Aragorn's head out as carefully as he could and laid him on the ground where he remained motionless and seemingly lifeless. There was no way he could tell whether he still lived or not. He left the rest of his body covered, for on a bitterly cold night like this, the King needed as much warmth as possible, were he to have any chance of recovery.

He was however determined not to tie him on to the packhorse again. Fortunately, Zachus was a large, strong horse, bred to easily carry a heavy man in full armour and had originally been bought by Denethor for that purpose.

Elbeth ran to Aragorn's side and shook him.

"Wake up Strider!" she called," Uncle Faramir has come to rescue you!"

Aragorn neither moved nor spoke.

"Why won't he wake up?" Elbeth demanded.

"Because of the medicine I gave him, " Faramir replied, " And he is very ill indeed."

"You should have given him some medicine sooner!" Elbeth said accusingly, "Is he going to he die?"

"I do not know, but we cannot leave him here on the cold ground," Faramir replied as he suppressed the urge to weep at the pitiful site of the man, he loved as father, brother and lord, lying there so helpless.

He decided to slit the sack to release Aragorn's legs and place him in front of him, then tell Elbeth to cling on behind as he doubted that she would be capable of riding the packhorse bareback. He could only hope the pack animal would follow them .He could not lead it now he had Aragorn to care for.

Carefully, he lifted Aragorn up on to Zachus, noting with alarm how dreadfully light he was. He sagged lifelessly over the horse's neck while Faramir reached up for Elbeth.

"Put your arms around my waist and hold on tightly!" he told her, as he secured the King with one hand and grasped the reins with the other .He urged Zachus onwards towards the hidden caves.

The next hour felt like a waking nightmare as Faramir struggled to keep his precious burden from falling. Aragorn neither moved nor made any sound and Faramir wondered if all he would be able to do was to ensure he was entombed in the Rath Dinen. Even if he yet lived, he would be seriously ill both from fever and whatever wounds his filthy clothing concealed.

Faramir enfolded his cloak protectively round him; glad that though his years in the army, he was accustomed to the stench of a man who has not been able to wash for weeks combined with that of festering wounds, though in recent years he had almost forgotten it apart from his brief sojourn in the prison.

Alive or dead, he would give his King a bath once they reached their destination as he was determined to restore some dignity to the one he loved so dearly.

After what he had done, he knew that Aragorn would never again regard him as a friend, take him into his confidence, tend his hurts or share the Thought Bond with him, but if he could only restore him to his wife, his child and his throne, Faramir would have be content, however bereft he felt

"Elbeth, wake up!" he cried, jolted out of his musings, as he felt the small arms slacken their grip.

Jolted into wakefulness, she gripped him so tightly for a moment, he could hardly breathe.

"Where are we going? Will we be there soon?" she demanded.

"We are going to camp in a cave but we have to go through the forest first," he told her.

" That sounds fun! I hope there are lots of bats" Elbeth responded cheerfully, reminding Faramir very much of his brother who had been fascinated by the creatures flitting to and fro from the White Tower.

It was a clear frosty night and the stars shone brightly overhead. Elbeth shivered and nestled closer to Faramir. He was grateful for the warmth of her small body at his back but felt guilty that he was bringing a child out on a freezing night like this. The icy wind moaned and seemed to go through them despite their thick layers or warm clothing.

Zachus had managed a trot but he had to slow him to a walk once they reached the forest They had to find their way along a narrow twisting track which wound between the trees. He could see very little as the thick branches obscured the moon and had to trust his mount to find his way and not stumble on exposed roots.

It was fortunate indeed that long years with his master in the wilds had accustomed the bay to be sure footed in such conditions and he even waded through the stream without complaint or faltering. Faramir vowed if they by some miracle returned to Minas Tirith alive, he would see that Zachus was provided with the best hay and sweetest grass for the rest of his days.

When they left the shelter of the trees, Faramir realised that it was not only branches obscuring the moon but thick cloud. The air felt heavy with snow and a few flakes started to fall.

"Why is the rain funny?" Elbeth asked puzzled, as a snowflake hit her on the nose.

"It is not rain but snow," Faramir explained, realising that she must be too young to remember the last time it had snowed in Gondor, which usually had mild winters. He was now glad of her chatter to keep him awake. He was starting to fear that he would never find the cave in the darkness and they would all freeze to death when he recognised the terrain and realised they were nearing the cave.

"Oh!" Elbeth lapsed into silence as she tried to digest this new information.

Faramir's arms were aching with the struggle to support Aragorn and control his horse as well as keep Elbeth awake and the journey seemed endless.

It felt as if they had been travelling for hours and already he feared that he was too late to save the King. Then almost without warning when they rounded a bend, the hill he was seeking rose out of the ground almost in front of them. He circled round until he found the thorn bush.

"We are here!" he told Elbeth, bringing Zachus to a halt.

Stiffly he dismounted and first lifted Aragorn down, briefly laying him on the cold ground and then Elbeth, who immediately tried to rouse the seemingly lifeless man.

"Wait here!" Faramir told her as he lit a torch he had brought with him and went inside the cave to light the candles he had left there.

Going back outside, he scooped up Aragorn and bade Elbeth to follow him. The child gasped in wonder as he led her into the larger cave, where he gently laid Aragorn down on one of the pelts he had stored there, covering him with his cloak.

"I am going to light a fire and then need to fetch some water. Can you look after the King?" he asked Elbeth.

"Is he really King?" she asked bemused, while Faramir busied himself with the kindling," Mummy said he was 'Lesser the zerper' and he said to call him Strider."

"Yes, he is King Elessar and he is _not_ a usurper." Faramir said firmly as the fire burst into life. For a few moments, the cave was filled with smoke making them cough and Faramir caught hold of Elbeth, afraid she would take fright remembering the death of her grandmother, but she remained amazingly calm, making him wonder just how much she had witnessed in her short life.

"You will be safe here." he said as he went outside, unharnessed Zachus and let him wander off in search of grazing and then went down to the stream and filled two buckets with water. The snow was starting to come down harder now. It seemed that they had only just reached their destination in time.

When he returned he found Elbeth had maintained a patient vigil but was almost asleep.

"Well done! You can rest now. I will look after the King." he said, giving her one of the blankets he had brought," Wrap that round you and curl up near the fire!"

She obediently did as she was told while he put water in a pan on the fire to heat and laid out the healing supplies and bedding, putting it near the fire to air.

By the time he was ready to begin tending to Aragorn, she was fast asleep much to his relief .He did not wish her either to see the King uncovered or whatever wounds he might reveal.

Faramir moved Aragorn on to one of the bedrolls and steeled himself to remove the King's filthy clothing, dreading what hurts he might uncover, yet knowing it had to be done and he was the only person available to carry out the task.

If only a healer were here, someone with the knowledge and experience not to fear what they might find!

Aragorn's gaunt features and the fact that clumps had been torn from his hair and beard all bore testament to weeks of severe hardship and ill treatment.

He unbuttoned the curiously designed shirt, only to find it stuck to the skin in places, which necessitated soaking it off.

Rage and horror threatened to overwhelm him when Aragorn's hurts were finally revealed.

TBC

_A/N_

_A very grateful thank you for your much appreciated reviews and poem._

_I apologise for the delay and ensure you I have no intention of abandoning the story but it is proving to need more reworking than my previous ones._

_The "other mummy" is Elbeth's foster mother who took her in at the end of "Shadow and Thought"._

_Faramir' troubles are far from over and there will be no quick fixes. You are good at guessing!_


	28. Wounds, and bruises,and putrefying sores

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**From the sole of the foot even unto the head _there is_ no soundness in it; _but_ wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores: they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment. Isaiah 1.6**

**Warning – This chapter is somewhat gory and may distress sensitive readers.**

He had steeled himself for the cruel mark of the brand, which he had inflicted and had expected Aragorn to be suffering from a variety of cuts and bruises. Far worse to behold though, were the raw patches where the skin had been deliberately and expertly removed to cause a great deal of pain without inflicting a life-threatening wound.

There were many such patches across the King's chest, sides, belly and inner arms, all inflicted where the skin was most tender or where the slightest movement would cause pain. Each patch looked raw and angry and several were infected and oozing an evil looking pus.

There were also had a series of shallow cuts slashed across his body. All had been expertly inflicted to weaken Aragorn through pain and blood loss, while keeping him alive.

Faramir swallowed hard as nausea threatened to overwhelm him. How could any human being treat another thus? He expected such behaviour from the minions of Sauron, but how could his fellow Gondorians behave like this to torture a good and noble man while he was bound and helpless. Worse still, how could he have joined in?

He forced himself to overcome his natural squeamishness and to concentrate. A chill ran through the Steward when he realised Aragorn had been tortured in the exact places, where he had experienced his mysterious pains. He shuddered at the thought of the agony his King must have endured .His brief spasms of pain had been hard enough to bear.

He carefully turned Aragorn on to his side, noting from his near skeletal appearance that not only had he been tortured, but starved as well. He knew, even without looking, that he would find he bore the marks on a flogging on his back. The stripes were almost healed, which suggested they were inflicted the very day Faramir had awoken with his back throbbing.

What manner of a mysterious bond had they then shared that he should have suffered his King's pain? Gladly would he bear it again rather than this dreadful emptiness within his soul.

He next removed the tattered breeches, fairly confident now that the worse injuries were all on Aragorn's upper body. He paused to note that a tiny white tree was embroidered on the knee of the dirty and torn drawers beneath, just as Arwen had said.

Removing them, he uncovered a good deal of bruising to the lower belly and groin area and reddened and inflamed skin, doubtless caused by being unable to either move freely or bathe.

Quickly, he covered the King with a towel to preserve some modesty for him. Though he had seen him unclothed before, when he tended him at the Hunting Lodge and when they had bathed together, he still considered it a sacrilege to see him completely naked. It seemed that even the rebels had been constrained by some vestiges of respect until now, since they had kept him clothed, though Hanna's desire to humiliate Aragorn had become insistent enough for the men to be ready to act upon it.

Faramir paused for a moment; studying Aragorn's battered and abused body and feeling overwhelmed at the task facing him. This was far worse than he could ever have imagined. He was no healer and very much doubted his ability to save his King, assuming even that he still lived.

He picked up a blanket and covered him with it, as much to conceal the dreadful injuries, the sight of which threatened to overwhelm him, as to keep Aragorn warm.

He took a deep breath and then poured the warmed water into a bowl and started to bathe Aragorn starting with his haggard and sweat stained face. Even clumps of his hair and beard had been pulled out. Faramir strongly suspected Hanna to be responsible for such senseless cruelty.

Aragorn's wrists were raw from where the chains had secured him and his left hand looked as if it had been brutally stamped upon and crushed.

Rage surged though Faramir, how dare anyone crush a precious hand such as this, which had been used to heal so many?

He was so glad that he had despatched Fosco and his servant; though the quick death he had given them seemed far kinder than what they deserved.

He had seen men who had been tortured before during his time as a soldier but never to such a degree or over such a long period of time.

Aragorn lay there limp and still, not even reacting when Faramir, working under the blanket, wiped away the blood and pus from his wounds, some of which had dried hard, and required vigorous cleansing despite his wish to be gentle.

The Steward increasingly feared that all his efforts were in vain .It appeared that the spider venom had proved fatal to the already seriously ill man. Yet, he continued to bathe him, blinking away tears as he did so, thinking this was at least the last service he could render one who had not only been his liege lord but also a beloved friend.

Aragorn's flesh was still warm to the touch but he had no way of knowing whether that was because he was alive or merely because of shared body heat from himself and the horse.

Faramir continued to work, moving downwards until he reached Aragorn's feet. The ankles were rubbed raw from the manacles that had encased them and the toes were covered with painful looking chilblains.

He then turned Aragorn over on to his side, in order to wash his back. Then he noticed that one of the wounds on his chest was bleeding. Faramir's heart leapt for joy. Dead men did not bleed. Aragorn must still be alive!

Quickly, he dried him and covered him with another blanket in an attempt to keep him warm, wishing it were better aired. Never had Faramir wished more, that he had studied the arts of healing, lacking as he did, even the basic skills to ascertain how badly the King was hurt.

He tentatively prodded the bruised body and suspected a rib or two might be broken, though he could not be certain. Most of the older looking bruising was concentrated around his ribs, belly and groin, but there were fresh bruises to his back and legs, which must have been caused when he was dragged from the cellar so roughly.

Hesitantly he picked up a jar of salve, hoping he was using the right one and to his surprise and belief, found every jar also bore an extra label saying what it was to be used for.

He began with the one labelled 'Damaged skin and bruises' thinking he would start with the least serious hurts .It smelled rather like a preparation Eowyn used for when Elestelle suffered from napkin rash, somewhat to Faramir's surprise. How he wished that Eowyn were by his side now to help and support him!

He spread the contents as gently as he could, across the reddened skin and bruises disfiguring Aragorn's body, moving the blanket aside a little at a time.

Elbeth stirred in her sleep, causing Faramir to fear she would awaken while he was still tending the King. To his relief, she merely turned over and settled again.

Not wishing to take any chances, the Steward rummaged in the bag of clothing he had brought until he found a pair of drawers embroidered by Arwen and pulled them on Aragorn, both to protect his modesty and Elbeth's innocence.

Returning to his task of tending the wounds, Faramir found a jar of salve labelled 'Burns' and rubbed it on the hateful brand mark, which he himself had inflicted. He could hardly bear to look at it never mind touch it!

He knew from Eowyn and their time at the Hunting Lodge that honey was the best treatment for wounds, but also the infected ones had to be drained, a task he dreaded.

Taking the knife Tarostar had given him, he plunged the blade into the fire until it glowed white-hot.

While waiting for the now sterile blade to cool, he fancied that he saw Aragorn move a little. Much as he wanted him to awaken, he had hoped it would not be until after his wounds were tended and he had made him as comfortable as possible.

He decided first to apply the honey and bandages to the wounds, washing his hands between touching each one. They appeared clean, albeit raw on Aragorn's belly, arms and shoulders .He then did the same to the patches rubbed raw by the manacles on his wrists and ankles.

He grasped the now cooled knife in one hand and a pad of clean cloth in the other. The worse infected wound was on Aragorn's waist and the others were under his elbow and on his chest.

Trying to keep his hand steady, he rather tentatively lanced the swollen patch on the King's waist but when he pressed the cloth down, very little pus oozed out. He steeled himself to cut more deeply and this time the cloth was soon covered by evil looking matter.

As soon as it was drained, he bathed it with salted water, smeared it with honey before carefully bandaging it, and then repeated the process with the chest wound. They were only small but looked extremely painful.

Sighing with relief that he had almost finished, he lanced the elbow wound, drained it and started to apply the honey to the raw flesh.

Totally paralysed, Aragorn dreaded the brief flashes of awareness, which stirred him from a merciful oblivion. He had felt the sweet air on his face, which could only mean though, that he was on his way to be buried alive. Then he was back in what felt like the cellar again. To his horror, someone was removing his clothing, leaving him completely naked and afraid of what new horrors lay in store. He found he could twitch slightly now, so maybe some movement was returning.

Hands were prodding every inch of his pain-racked body. There was nothing in any way indecent about the touch, but it was too clumsy and inept to be that of a healer and there was something oddly familiar about it. He felt himself being covered again. He wondered if they were trying to revive him in order to torture him once more.

Then he knew it; as he felt what appeared to be a red-hot blade piercing him. Something that stung painfully was poured over his raw wounds. He could neither move nor cry out but then the pain and shock must have overcome the paralysis. His eyes suddenly opened and he gave a strangled cry.

Faramir was immediately at the King's side, clasping his uninjured hand.

"Thank the Valar you are awake!" he exclaimed, blinking back the tears "Easy now, you are safe. I am tending your wounds! I am sorry I am hurting you!"

Feverish and agitated, Aragorn stared at him. "Traitor!" he croaked through parched lips."Your wiles shall not persuade me !"

TBC

A/N

_A big thank you to all my readers for your much-appreciated comments and for taking me past the 600 reviews mark!_

_I intend to reply to future questions via the new message system, so please remember to log in to enable me to do so._

_I share Elbeth's liking for bats._

_The story is meant to have a winter feel rather like that in the "Narnia" books._


	29. When a raging fever burns

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**So, when a raging fever burns,  
We shift from side to side by turns;  
And 't is a poor relief we gain  
To change the place, but keep the pain. **

**Isaac Watts**** (1674–1748)**

Faramir hung his head in shame for indeed Aragorn must believe him thus.

"I am sorry, my lord, " he replied, " I acted only that I might rescue you." He held a cup of boiled water to the King's parched lips.

Aragorn shook his head, nearly fainting at the effort, "No, I will not drink your poison, traitor!" he croaked.

Faramir suspected that the King must be desperately in need of fluids and pinched the skin on the back of his uninjured hand, something he had seen Aragorn do to him while he was seriously ill after his ordeal in the prison. That memory was more painful than ever now. Aragorn had been so kind to him then .

The King had explained that if pinched skin did not immediately fall back in place, it meant a person needed water very badly. The result was just as Faramir had feared. He tried again only for Aragorn to clamp his parched lips tightly shut.

Sighing, he was forced to put the water to one side. He could only hope that once the King's wounds were bandaged he might become more reasonable.

Picking up the jar of honey again, he tried to apply more to the wound on the Aragorn's elbow.

Aragorn screamed and lashed out with what little strength he had. Faramir narrowly dodged being hit in the eye.

He picked up a roll of bandage and tried to reason with the feverish man. "Please, just let me finish binding your wounds!" he pleaded.

"No, no!" Aragorn replied, catching sight of the ring on Faramir's finger. "Traitor, torturer, thief!" Starting to struggle again, this time he succeeded in landing a weak blow on Faramir's nose.

Exhausted, heart sore and despairing at Aragorn's words, Faramir wildly raised his arm in a threatening gesture, determined to subdue him for his own good.

"Stop it!" A hand grabbed his arm. Alarmed, he swung round and found himself looking into Elbeth's furious and distressed features.

"You are hurting poor Strider!" she said crossly.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked her, swallowing hard at the realisation she had just saved him from falling further into darkness.

"Since he woke up, I was scared to say anything in case you hurt me too .I won't let you hurt him though!" she said fiercely, positioning herself in front of Aragorn.

Faramir felt overwhelmed with shame at his own conduct .To think that he had sunk so low as to threaten a sick and helpless man who was also his lord .He despised himself for frightening a child too, let alone letting her witness such behaviour. He realised he was sweating almost as much as the feverish man beside him.

He blinked away the tears, which threatened to overwhelm him. "I am sorry. I would not harm you, Elbeth," he apologised, his heart going out to her. He hugged her but she glared at him and broke free. "The King has been hurt and needs his wounds looking after. That makes him cry out because they are sore. I am trying to make him better."

She looked at him doubtfully, as laying the bandages aside; he tried again to coax Aragorn to swallow some water, meeting with no greater success than before.

"Uncle Faramir?" the little girl asked, tugging at this sleeve.

"Not now, Elbeth. I must get him to drink or he could die!" Faramir said frantically.

"_I_ can give it to him," Elbeth said calmly, taking the cup from the astonished Faramir before he could protest.

Supporting Aragorn's restless head with her small hands, she let him see her swallow a mouthful of the water and then held it to his lips. Thirstily, he drained it.

"However did you do that?" Faramir was amazed.

" I've been taking him drinks when they thought I was asleep. He likes me, as I'm his friend. He'll eat and drink anything I give him!" she replied, with the supreme confidence of her youth.

Although delighted at her success, the words were like a dagger to Faramir's heart. He had once held the trust of this greatest of men but had been forced to forfeit it. Stifling his emotions, he filled the cup again and handed it to Elbeth.

"He needs plenty of water, so give him this too, if you can," he begged her.

Again, the water was quickly swallowed.

"Can you give him his medicine now?" he asked her.

"I expect so, if it doesn't taste too nasty!" she replied.

Carefully he mixed up some herbs, catnip and willow, labelled 'Fever', rosehips labelled 'Infection' and poppy juice, which he recognised as being for pain. The Healers had carefully measured out each dose in a screw of paper or vial and written instructions about how often it should be taken. At least he did not have to worry whether he really would confirm Aragorn's suspicions and poison him!

He took a tentative sip of the mixture, which tasted vile. He added a spoonful of the honey to it, which made it palatable, if not exactly pleasant.

Elbeth again took the cup to Aragorn. "Here is your medicine, Strider, "she said, "Drink it up then you'll get better and can play with me!"

Whether it was her words, the sound of her pleading childish voice, or even the familiar tasting medicinal herbs, Faramir had no idea, but Aragorn swallowed it all and soon became sleepy as the poppy juice took effect.

Faramir seized his chance, and after asking Elbeth to hold the King's uninjured hand, wound the bandage round his elbow, and secured it. He then did his best to bind the broken fingers of his left hand, using pieces of firewood for splints, which provoked whimpers of pain from Aragorn and glares of protest from Elbeth.

"It has to be done. It will soon be over," he soothed; uncertain whether it were Aragorn or Elbeth he most needed to placate.

At last, it was done and Aragorn's wounds were finally tended as best he could. Tears of pain ran down his cheeks from his prolonged ordeal. Faramir made to wipe away the tears and sweat but Aragorn flinched away as if expecting a blow then tried to throw off the blanket much to Faramir's alarm.

The Steward hastily sorted through the supplies of clothing for a loose shirt and handed it to Elbeth. "Can you get him to put that on?" he asked, torn between the need to keep Aragorn warm and reluctance to allow a small girl to see him partially clothed, even though well covered by the bandages. It was truly disturbing that the King would so ignore Gondorian etiquette and his own reserve, as to rather permit a young girl to help him dress than his once trusted friend.

"Strider!" Elbeth called softly, "Put this on, it is nice and soft like the one you gave me!"

Aragorn struggled to sit up, so Faramir inched behind him without being seen and supported him, pulling the shirt down as Elbeth eased it over his head, without being seen. Poor Aragorn was obviously too drowsy and ill by now to wonder whom his unseen helper might be. At Faramir's urging, Elbeth then coaxed another cup of water down the King.

Faramir was vastly relieved that Aragorn would at least accept help from Elbeth. At the same time he felt desperately worried about what he was going to do when the King needed to answer a call of nature or be bathed and changed.

Gesturing Elbeth to stay beside the King, he selected the two blankets nearest the fire and exchanged them the damp and blood soaked blankets currently covering Aragorn for them. Although he burned with fever, in these cold and damp surroundings, it would be all too easy for him to take a chill.

He waited for Aragorn to fall into a feverish sleep and only then, did he set out his own bedding and suggest Elbeth make herself comfortable in a makeshift nest of pelts and blankets between himself and Aragorn.

"This is fun!" she exclaimed, giggling softly, "Much nicer than a bed! I'm playing at being a kitten or a puppy!"

Faramir could not help but smile at her. "Which would you rather be? " he asked,

"A kitten!" she replied, "they are prettier and more cuddly! I wish I could have one!"

"When we get to my home, you shall, if you are a good girl!" Faramir promised, eager to reward her for her help, should they manage to escape.

"What colour?" she asked.

"Let me think, " Faramir replied, trying to remember what colours the house cats at Emyn Arnen were."You could have a black one, or a white one or maybe a tabby with stripes, or a kitten with different coloured patches or even a ginger one if you are very lucky!"

"I'd like a ginger one best!"Elbeth was already falling asleep, a contented smile on her young features.

Faramir sat for a moment lost in thought and studying the ring on his finger. Stung by Aragorn's rebuke, he felt unable to wear it a moment longer. He knelt by the King's side and gently took his uninjured hand, to perform a task he had yearned to do since the day Arwen had entrusted it to him.

He slid the Ring of Barahir from his own finger and transferred it to Aragorn's, reuniting the precious heirloom with its rightful owner. He wept quietly, overwhelmed with grief for the King's pitiful condition and remorse for his own cruelty towards him. He felt so empty without the shared Thought Bond, which he was certain could never again be restored.

How he yearned to hold the one in his arms who had been father, brother and friend to him and offer what comfort he could but even asleep Aragorn recoiled from the touch of his hand.

The Steward would have very much liked to stay awake to keep watch over Aragorn, but not being of undiluted Numenorean ancestry, after the stresses of the day, lacked the stamina to do so and soon fell into an uneasy slumber, his sword ready to hand.

He woke frequently roused by a mixture of worry and bitter cold. Each time, he reassured himself that Aragorn was still alive before pulling his blankets round him again and snuggling closer to Elbeth for warmth.

The next morning felt even colder when Faramir awoke again. After satisfying himself that Aragorn was still breathing, he hastily built up the dying fire knowing that must be his first priority. He placed a pot of water on it to boil.

Still drugged by the poppy juice, the King shifted restlessly in his sleep muttering to himself. When Faramir gently felt his brow, it felt hotter than ever much to the Steward's dismay.

TBC

_A/N A very grateful thank you to all my readers for your much appreciated comments.I have replied to everyone I was able to._

_There is still plenty of angst ahead_.


	30. What is our innocence ?

_These characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**What is our innocence,  
what is our guilt? All are  
naked, none is safe. - Marianne Moore (1887–1972)**

**With thanks to Susan W.**

Elbeth appeared to be in a deep and peaceful sleep, most likely dreaming of kittens still.

Faramir put on his cloak and went outside both to answer nature's call and to see how Zachus was faring.

Stepping outside the cave, he stared in wonder, when he was almost dazzled by a thick, pristine carpet of virgin snow, a rarity in Gondor.

Initially, he panicked as the sight of his footprints, fearing their hiding place would be easily discovered, before realising the forest would be impassable under such conditions and when the snow melted, it would wash away their tracks.

The Valar appeared to be smiling on them at last. He could even spot some bewildered looking rabbits amongst the trees, which might provide fresh meat.

He had just emerged from behind a tree when he was startled by a loud whinny. To his delight, Roheryn was cautiously making his way towards them.

"I have brought your master!" he told him, patting the stallion who was nuzzling him in hope of some tasty morsel.

As quickly as he could, Faramir cleared a patch of snow to allow both horses to graze before going to fetch water from the stream. He then went back inside the cave to fetch his bow, hoping he could make a kill before Elbeth was abroad.

Stealthily, he crept up on his prey; an ill-fated buck rabbit, tempted by the cleared grass and quickly strung the arrow, releasing it with deadly accuracy. He was delighted to find that after several years and injuries to his arm and shoulder, he had retained his old skills with the bow.

He took no joy in killing; but fresh meat was more appetising and nourishing than dried .It would help too, to to eke out the limited supplies he had been able to carry on a single packhorse.

Picking up the dead rabbit, he took it back inside in order to prepare it for the pot.

Aragorn was now awake and stared at him with glassy eyes devoid of recognition, when he approached.

"Water!" he cried.

Faramir poured some into a cup and waited for it to cool sufficiently to drink.

"So very hot!" Aragorn whispered, his voice week and rasping."Hurts, everywhere hurts !"

Faramir rushed outside, grabbed a handful of snow and wrapped it in a cloth. He gently brushed back the sweat soaked dark hair from the King's brow and applied the cold compress. He then held the now cooled water to the King's lips.

"So kind." Aragorn smiled at him weakly, reaching out to clasp Faramir's hand, almost breaking his Steward's heart in so doing. How could he be thought kind after what he had done? The bruise from his blow was still visible on the King's cheek and he knew all too well that beneath his shirt, the hideous brand was proclaiming his cruelty towards this man who had given him everything..

Faramir blinked back the tears, firmly telling himself that he had at least rescued his friend from a cruel death at the hands of his tormentors. He felt so empty without their shared Thought Bond, but who would share such a gift with someone who had tortured them so cruelly?

He gave Aragorn another cup of water and then mixed up the medicines for him, which he swallowed obediently. He then clung to Faramir's hand again,whimpering in pain until the poppy juice took effect.

Faramir then gently disentangled his hand and prepared to bathe his King and change the sweat soaked clothing and bandages,only to realise that Elbeth was awake and watching him in that disconcerting way of hers, her solemn grey eyes so like Boromir's.

"Did you sleep well?" he enquired as she climbed out of her cocoon of bedding.

"Yes,it was fun being curled up like a kitten !" she replied, jumping up and down on the spot while she spoke.

"I need you to turn and look the other way now," he told her.

"Why?" she demanded.

"I have to change the King's clothes," he explained, "And men without clothes on are not nice to look at!"

She giggled all too knowingly, making Faramir wonder again what horrors her past life concealed.

"They look funny just like skinned rabbits! Girls are made much better!" she informed him solemnly, "And kittens ! Why can't men be dressed all over in nice fur like kittens?"

"I do not know, " Faramir told her, privately agreeing on the greater beautyof the female form, while wondering how many more questions she would ask, to which he had no idea of the correct answers,if indeed there were any." Now will you turn around, please? You must not see the King uncovered !"

"Why?" she asked again,"I've seen mummy's men friends with no clothes on."

Faramir racked his brains disparately seeking an answer which would satisfy her.

"Because he is the King and kings are special men," he said at last.

"Oh," Elbeth digested the information then fidgeted uncomfortably." I need to go," she announced.

Faramir could only assume she meant a call of nature beckoned and felt it indelicate to enquire further."You will have to go outside but be careful not to slip in the snow." he told her, " Put your cloak on as it is cold!"

"What is snow?" Elbeth asked bewildered."I thought it was just funny rain that hits you on the nose !"

" I will show you, " Faramir sighed, wondering how long it was going to be before he could bathe Aragorn.

"Come!" he said, taking her hand in one of his and holding a candle to guide them through the outer cave with the other.

When they emerged from the mouth of the cave,Elbeth gazed entranced. "Is it magic?" she asked, "It is so pretty! What is it made of?"

"It is frozen water and it comes down from the clouds when it is very cold." Faramir told her patiently.

"What is for then?" she asked.

Faramir was about to reply that he did not know ,then he remembered a day when he must have been about her age and had seen snow himself for the first time. His tutor, a wise and kindly man, had excused him from his studies that morning; informing Denethor that learning about snow would be a valuable lesson.

The tutor had shown him how to build a snowman and make snowballs, which he had enjoyed throwing at his surprised brother when Boromir had emerged from his morning lessons.

Smiling at the memory, he scooped up a handful of snow and threw it towards the nearest tree, hitting it with a resounding splat.

"Snow is for playing with," he told Elbeth, " Now do not go any further than those trees over there. I will call you in a few minutes and you can show me the snowballs you have made!"

He hastened back to Aragorn's side. The King was frantically begging for more water and trying vainly to reach the cup Faramir had set to one side.

Faramir dared to hope that despite the raging fever, his stronger movements and desire to drink suggested that Aragorn was a little stronger. He was greatly relieved that he was moving his limbs freely, which suggested the spider venom had not caused any serious damage.

Not wanting to keep Elbeth out in the cold, he swiftly tried to remove Aragorn's clothing.

"No !" the King protested,clutching at his garments feverishly."Water !"

"You shall have more when you have been bathed,"Faramir said firmly,steeling himself to ignore the feeble protests and concentrating on removing the shirt and drawers. He threw a blanket over the King and bathed him under it as much as possible trying to protect him from the biting cold as well as wanting to spare him embarrassment, remembering how Aragorn had done he same for him.. He feared that Elbeth might return if she grew bored with her game.

Faramir liberally applied salves and re-bandaged the raw wounds on the King's ankles. He dressed him in clean drawers, noticing how his hand immediately felt for the embroidered white tree emblem.

"Arwen!" the King whispered with tears in his eyes."Arwen, where are you my love? Please do not leave me!"

"You shall see her soon." Faramir soothed, hoping desperately he could keep his promise.

Tucking the blanket snugly around Aragorn, he went in search of Elbeth, only to be greeted by a snowball hitting him on the chest.

"I've learned how to make snowballs!" she announced, emerging from behind the tree, where she had been hiding.

" I see that!" Faramir said grimly, resisting the temptation to scold her for following what after all had been his suggestion, "Come inside now, or you will get cold!"

"But I'm having fun!" she protested, pouting

"You can play again when you have had something to eat!" he promised her.

"I'm hungry!" The snowballs forgotten, she followed him inside.

Mixing some oatmeal with water, he put it on the fire to warm, telling Elbeth to watch that it did not boil over and not on any account to turn around.

Returning to Aragorn, he unwrapped the bandages and bathed his face, arms and upper body. To his dismay, the wounds were still oozing their evil contents, though he did not know whether that was a good thing or not.

He began to cleanse them thoroughly,which caused Aragorn to writhe and moan.

"Stop! No !" the King begged, as the raw wound on his waist was cleansed. "Where is Faramir? He would save me! No, he betrayed me !You look like him, but you cannot be that traitor ! "

Faramir felt almost as distressed as his patient. He truly hated causing pain, especially to a loved one and it was torment to see Aragorn in such a pitiful condition. Even at the Hunting Lodge, most of the time Aragorn had been aware of who he was and what needed to be done, due no doubt to his own considerable knowledge of healing and most importantly he had trusted his Steward then.

When he applied the honey, he ardently wished he could stop his ears against the injured man's screams.

Elbeth left her place by the fire and grabbed his arm.

"Why are you making Strider cry again?" she demanded accusingly.

Faramir sighed in dismay," I told you to stay by the fire !" he scolded, horrified both that she should see Aragorn's injuries and that the King should suffer the added humiliation of having a young child see him wounded and half naked.

"I won't stay there while you hurt Strider !" she replied furiously.

"The honey stings but it should help him get better," he replied,quickly bandaging the wounds.

"Honey tastes nice to eat but why were you rubbing it on?" she asked,seemingly untroubled by the gruesome injuries.

"It cleans a nasty wound better than water does." was the best explanation Faramir could think of, hoping she would not want to eat his precious supply of honey.

Her attention was already elsewhere as her eyes were drawn to wards the brand mark, which Faramir was now bathing with a sense of overwhelming guilt.

"I thought they put those marks on cows, not people." she commented.

"They do, it was very wrong that this was put here." Faramir said, almost to himself.

"Then the bad person should be punished as it must have hurt a lot!" Elbeth said sternly, "Strider is nice and he's my friend!"

"It did and so he should be!" Faramir choked, now unable to control the tears from running down his cheeks.

A/N

_A very grateful thank you to you all for your much appreciated comments. I hope my readers in the USA had a pleasant holiday. I have replied to everyone who logged in._

_My apologies for any errors that you might find, my usual Word processor is not working and I am having to use one I am unfamiliar with._

_I do have readers of all ages,some of whom are who are older than Faramir._

_I have checked with a friend who knows about horses who assured me they would be all right in the snow so long as they could graze._


	31. Flee an enemy who knows your weakness

_These characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Flee an enemy who knows your weakness.**

**Pierre Corneille (1606–1684)**

"You should kiss it better when it hurts!" Elbeth suggested, "The nice lady I used to live with always did that. See, like this!"

Kneeling beside Aragorn, she gently kissed the livid mark disfiguring his flesh. "Now it is your turn!" she told Faramir sternly.

He should have told her that adults did no such thing. Maybe though, this was to be part of the penance he so richly deserved ? Meekly, he followed her instructions,feeling as if it was choking him to do so. Was it his guilty conscience or did the heat from the cruel scar left by the brand sear his lips?

"I am so very, very sorry," he murmured. Unable now, to hold back the choking sobs of guilt and shame, Faramir applied a salve to the burn then pulled a clean shirt over Aragorn's head.

"Don't cry, Uncle Faramir!" said Elbeth, wrapping her small arms around him .She reminded him then of his brother when they were both young children."Why are you so sad ?" she enquired.

Faramir swallowed hard."It is because the King is hurting," was all that he could think of to tell her.

Suddenly he could smell burning. "The porridge!" he gasped, dashing towards the pan.

Fortunately only a little was burned, and he was able to salvage enough for their breakfast, which he reluctantly forced himself to eat. He spared a little of the honey to spoon on Elbeth's portion and was rewarded by a beaming smile from his niece.

As the day progressed, Aragorn became more lucid and far harder for Faramir to care for, once he recognised him as one of his tormentors.

Every time the Steward came near he would shout, " Traitor, be gone!" which pieced Faramir's soul or worse still, a pitiful cry of "No more! Do not hurt me!" and look at him with such alternating fury and distress in the grey eyes that Faramir had to keep blinking back the tears .He feared his heart would soon break.

He had no choice but to ask Elbeth to give Aragorn the herbal brews he needed, as well as plenty of water and also ask the child to bathe Aragorn's brow to try to cool him. For more intimate matters, all he could do was leave a chamber pot within easy reach and be ready to order Elbeth outside if the King appeared to need it. He was still very dehydrated though, so it was still a rare occurrence;either that or he would endure considerable discomfort rather than seek aid from the man who betrayed him.

It was now impossible for Faramir to do anything for him unless he was rendered sufficiently sleepy by the poppy juice to be unaware of what was happening.

Faramir found Elbeth's presence his only solace during these dark hours . Even that reminded him of how close he had come to killing her,which furtherincreased his disgust with what he had become.

"How did Strider come to be your friend?" he asked the child, more out of a desire for something to take his mind off both their current predicament and his guilty conscience, rather than from any great desire to know.

"I felt lonely as Mummy is always with Lord Devorin and I missed my other mummy and daddy and my friends," she explained."Then I heard them saying they were bringing 'Lesser the Zerper ' here and that he was very bad. I saw them carry a sack to the cellar and thought it must be a monster inside and I was scared. Then one night, I heard crying. I was looking for something nice to eat in the kitchen but I could only find bread and jam lying around. I know monsters don't cry so I went into the cellar and found Strider. I knew he was my friend because he was kind when Grandma's house burned down. I think he was crying because he felt hungry and lonely and was hurting a lot so I took him food nearly every night until he told me he was going away . I was sad as he is specially nice!"

Faramir hugged her and planted a tender kiss on her brow, "You are much wiser than many around you, child!" he choked, shuddering at the thought of Aragorn weeping alone in the cellar, " You may well have saved the life of the high King of Gondor and Arnor! He is the noblest and kindest man that lives!"

"I know because he's nice to me!" Elbeth replied matter of factly, " Can I comb his hair, it's all tangled up?"

" If he will allow you to,"Faramir replied, handing her a comb.

"If he is the kindest man,who is the nicest lady that lives?" Elbeth asked. She knelt beside Aragorn and started to gently untangle his unruly locks with her small fingers.

"My wife, your Aunt Eowyn!" Faramir replied instantly, a far away look of longing in his eyes, " She is kind,beautiful,brave and good."

"I remember her," Elbeth replied, starting to draw the comb through the King's hair,"She saved me from the fire and was nice.She was so pretty,her hair was like gold! I want to see her again!"

"So do I!" Faramir said fervently "And when I do, I shall take you with me and you shall live with us and have your own kitten!"

"Good!" Elbeth replied, though she seemed far from convinced. She struggled to tame Aragorn's unruly hair, sticking out her tongue in concentration as she tried to unravel an especially stubborn knot. He seemed soothed by her touch, as she was surprisingly gentle for one so young.

"When can we see her?" asked Elbeth.

"Soon, I hope," Faramir replied,fervently hoping that were true."When the King feels better and the snow has melted, we shall go and find her and my little girl."

"Will she play with me ?" Elbeth asked.

"When she is old enough," Faramir replied,growing weary of so many questions."Should you not concentrate on Stride...I mean the King's hair now ?" he said.

Painstakingly, she smoothed and combed the unruly and sweat soaked locks, brushing them back from his face. He appeared more comfortable and looked tidier but the bare patches were all the more obvious.

"Someone has been pulling his hair out!" Elbeth exclaimed, "That is very unkind, they need smacking!"

"Well I would cheerfully have them hung!" Faramir told her vehemently.

Elbeth looked interested, "There was a boy where I used to live who pulled my hair, will you have him hung too?" she asked eagerly.

" I do not know who he is, " Faramir said diplomatically."And as your hair has grown back, there is no evidence. When someone does something really bad, there has to be proof they did it, before you can punish them."

Elbeth had lost interest in the subject and was now fingering a strand of her own hair, and looking between Aragorn and Faramir, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Uncle Faramir, why do we all have dark hair and grey eyes?" she asked.

Faramir smiled, at last a question he could easily answer! "Because our ancestors came from the island of Numenor." he replied.

"Why did they leave it?" Elbeth asked, delighted to have his full attention.

"The people who there wanted to sail to the land of the Elves and conquer it, for they falsely thought they would live forever if they did. But the Valar were angry with them and sent a great wave which swallowed up Numenor and all the people who lived there. There was a wise King called Elendil though, who escaped with seven ships and his followers and came to Arda. He was a direct ancestor of the King's, a very long time ago."

"I should not like to live forever," Elbeth said sagely, "I'd be bored ! People don't seem to play any more when they are old like you ! Is that real or just a story?"

"It is true," Faramir said solemnly. He loved talking about the ancient history of his people and it had been a favourite topic of discussion between Aragorn and himself. Eowyn was more interested in the pedigrees of her horses, whereas Boromir had been more interested in the history of weapons and the dates of famous battles.

He continued to tell his niece stories of Numenor while he prepared the rabbit for the pot. When he produced some potatoes and carrots from amongst the supplies, Elbeth offered to help peel them and proved far more adept at the task than her uncle, much to his surprise.

"I used to do this both for grandma and the nice lady I lived with," she explained, noting the surprise on Faramir's face.

"Did your grandma not worry that you might cut yourself, you must have been very little then?" he asked.

Elbeth shook her head. "No, they just said I must do it properly or they would be very cross with me!"

Faramir felt increasingly sad about the way the unfortunate child had been raised. If only Boromir had told him about her. Or had Boromir even known that she existed ?

With Elbeth's help, the stew was soon ready and put to boil on the fire.

Aragorn became even more restless as the day wore on and kept throwing off his blankets. He seemed stronger, Faramir thought, no doubt due to Elbeth coaxing him to swallow a cupful of water at regular intervals, but the more animated he became, the worse his delirium.

"Water!" he begged.

Faramir tried to approach him, a cup in his outstretched hand.

"Leave me,traitor!"he cried, trying to lash out at the Steward.

Frantically he gestured towards Elbeth, who was peeling a few more potatoes for later.

Knife still in hand, she approached Aragorn.

"No, not you too!" he screamed."Now you seek to torment me!"

Frightened, Elbeth took a step backwards.

"Drop the knife !" Faramir ordered," He thinks you might hurt him!It is just because he is ill that he is shouting at you."

Obediently, Elbeth dropped it and then approached again, cup in hand.

"Elbeth ?" Aragorn looked at her, this time with a glimmer of recognition in his fever glazed eyes and drained the water in the proffered cup.

Faramir was distracted by the pot boiling over and went to attend to it. A few minutes later, Elbeth came to refill Aragorn's cup.

"We should eat well today!" Faramir told her, "The stew is almost ready. I wonder if you could coax the King to eat a little or if his fever is too high. He might feel better if he could." He glanced towards Aragorn only to discover that the King was slowly edging his hand towards Elbeth's discarded blade.

"No!" he gasped, fearing the feverish man could injure himself and grabbing it just in time.

"I need a weapon against you!" Aragorn raved."You mean to torture me!"

" I will not hurt you again, sire. You have my oath!" Faramir told him, distraught at the narrowly averted danger and the mixture of fear and dislike in Aragorn's usually compassionate and calm eyes.

"Oath? You broke every oath you swore, traitor !" Aragorn retorted,before falling back exhausted.

"Why does he want to hurt you?" Elbeth finally asked the question that Faramir was dreading.

" Do not leave a knife where he can reach it again!" Faramir cautioned while trying to think of a suitable reply. He gripped her arm more tightly than he intended, causing her to yelp in pain.

"You are hurting me now!" she protested indignantly.

Faramir buried his face in his hands. 'What sort of monster am I becoming?' he asked himself."I am so sorry," he told Elbeth contritely,"I was upset."

"Why won't Strider let you go near him?" she persisted.

Faramir knelt so that he was at eye level with the little girl and looked directly at her. "I hurt him, Elbeth, that is why. I had to make Lord Lamedon and Lord Devorin trust me, so that I could rescue the King, but the only way to do that was to hurt him. It was a very cruel and wrong thing to do, though.

"I still like you,Uncle!" Elbeth said, fixing her grey eyes that were so like Boromir's, on him, "I'm still your friend!"

Faramir blinked away a tear as she skipped away to bathe Aragorn's face again.

They ate a hearty meal of the rabbit stew and Faramir mashed some of it up finely, which Elbeth coaxed Aragorn into eating quite a sizeable portion. He seemed to have forgotten his earlier suspicions of her and devoured it hungrily before falling into an uneasy sleep.

Thinking she deserved some time to play, Faramir then sent her out to make snowballs and settled down to keep watch beside Aragorn, sadly studying every line of the noble yet ravaged features. All the light seemed to have gone from his lord .Not even during their ordeal at the Hunting Lodge had he seemed so broken.

Tentatively, Faramir reached out and took his uninjured hand. Despite the fever, it was cold and clammy. He shuddered for Aragorn had always had such warm hands. It was the very first thing he ever remembered about him, the firm grip of a gentle, warm hand in his, after he had awoken from the Black Breath and hailed him as King.

Then there had been the times when Aragorn had tried to treat Faramir's shoulder and he had been too ill at ease to remove his shirt. He had felt the heat from those remarkable hands even through several layers of thick clothing. Now one hand felt like ice and the other was crushed . Faramir could only hope his amateur attempts at splinting it would allow the bones in the fingers to heal. If only Eowyn were here as he was no healer!

Sighing, he threw some more wood on the fire. The cave was now pleasantly warm and he felt himself becoming drowsy.

Soon he was deeply asleep and did not even stir when Elbeth, finally wearying of her game returned. Curling herself into her nest of blankets to protect herself from the cold, she quickly fell asleep beside the fire.

Aragorn awoke still dazed and confused by the fever that ravaged his brain. As he struggled to sit up, he realised he felt stronger . His eyes travelled around the cave and fell on Faramir . He wondered where he was. Then it all suddenly seemed to make sense. His treacherous Steward had brought him here to torture him further so that he would sign away his son's future!

Faramir's dagger lay at his side .He debated whether or not to kill the traitor. Yet, he found it impossible to raise his hand against him.

He realised that the shackles were no longer around his hands and feet and he was free to move. Tentatively, he tried to stand,only to find his whole body throbbed with pain.

He staggered towards the cave entrance. He felt so hot and the cool air beckoned seductively. Now was his chance to escape. Weak and ill though he felt, blind instinct made him seize it. Since he could not kill Faramir,he must flee from him !

Half stumbling, half crawling, he made his way out into the snow.

TBC

**I have reloaded this as I realised that I forgotten to include a crucial paragraph towards the end about Elbeth coming back into the cave.My sincere apologies.**

_A very grateful thank you to you all for your much appreciated comments. I have replied to everyone who logged in._

_My apologies for any errors that you might find, my usual Word processor is not working and I am having to use one I am unfamiliar with._

_How often I update is likely to vary greatly, due to the complexity of this story which is requires more rewriting than my previous ones._

_I don't think Gondor is cold enough for the stream to freeze over._


	32. I have lost my way for ever

_These characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**I am so lated in the world that I**

**Have lost my way for ever.**

**Shakespeare- Antony and Cleopatra 3.11**

**Failure, then, failure! so the world stamps us at every turn.- William James**

**_I have reloaded this chapter as at a reader's suggestion, I felt inspired to add something about Arwen and Eowyn.I hope to have the new chapter posted either later tonight or tomorrow._**

**_The idea of Aragorn in the snow was inspired by Nightwing's gripping"To see a World" and is used with her kind permission._**

**_Warning - This Chapter contains extreme angst which may distress sensitive readers._**

Faramir stirred uneasily in dark dreams. He could see himself standing over Aragorn's lifeless body. The sightless eyes stared at him in silent accusation, mocking him for his failure to save his lord. Then Hanna appeared, brandishing a carving knife and waving it in the direction of a very delicate portion of his anatomy,while Devorin urged her to strike. Behind him, Fosco and his servant, now reduced to skeletons jeered at him. Suddenly his father appeared crying, "You failed, you failed again and you always will fail ! Why did Boromir have to die and not you ? What use were you to that upstart you allowed to supplant you ? You failed him too !" A scream rose in his throat but no words came.

"Uncle Faramir, wake up!"

He awoke with a start to find Elbeth shaking him. The candle had burned low and the fire was little more than glowing embers. He realised with a start that he must have slept for hours. How could he have been so remiss? It was small wonder that he was plagued by evil dreams !

He blinked and yawned while he tried to force himself to full wakefulness. Throwing some fresh logs on the fire, he coaxed it back to life then fumbled to light a fresh candle from it.

"Uncle Faramir, Strider has gone!" Elbeth announced.

"What?" Faramir exclaimed in horror,"Is he dead? Oh, no!"

"He's not dead, he's _gone_!" Elbeth said impatiently.

Leaping to his feet, Faramir looked around and then ran to check the outer cave. Elbeth was correct. There was no sign of Aragorn.

"When did he go?" he asked her urgently, gazing wildly at the mouth of the cave. It was dark outside and snowing again heavily enough to obscure any footprints.

"I don't know!" she replied, "I got bored making snowballs and came back in and found both you and Strider asleep. I fell asleep too as there was no one to talk to and when I woke up he had gone!"

"No!" groaned Faramir, as he snatched up his cloak .He surmised that Aragorn; delirious and confused, had somehow, using his phenomenal force of will, managed to either crawl or walk from the cave in either an attempt to cool his fever or a desire to answer a call of nature in private. But how could a wounded and feverish man wearing only a thin linen shirt and drawers survive outside in conditions like these?

As he had obviously been gone long enough for the snow to cover his tracks, it seemed there was little chance of finding him alive.

"What has happened to Strider? Are you going to find him? Can I come too?" Elbeth's torrent of questions exhausted, she burst into tears.

Faramir knelt and put his arm around the distraught child, trying to conceal his own fears from her. "I think he has gone outside and got lost in the snow. I need to go and look for him," he told her,"I have a very important task for you while I am gone. I need you to keep the fire well stoked and a pan of water boiling. Do you think you can do that?"

Elbeth nodded and dried her tears on her sleeve.

"I will be back as soon as I can," Faramir said, getting to his feet. He took a torch and lit it as he spoke, "Stay here and do not try to follow me. If you are hungry, there is dried meat and fruit in the sack next to the potatoes."

"Don't be long,Uncle Faramir ! " she pleaded, "I'm scared on my own and I want Strider back!"

"You should be quite safe here,"he reassured her."I shall try to find Strider for you !"

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"Estel,no, no!"Arwen awoke with a scream.

"Whatever is the matter?" Eowyn exclaimed,roused from sleep by her friend's cries.

"It is Estel. He is dying !" Arwen announced bleakly," I can sense his life force growing weaker."

"You cannot know that for certain. Maybe it was just an evil dream?"Eowyn soothed. She found the mental abilities of Elves and Numenoreans highly disconcerting. Arwen's dreams had become increasingly disturbing over the past week. The Queen was growing increasingly worried about her husband while Eowyn fretted that Faramir might be in danger too.

Since Damrod had brought them to this isolated farmhouse to stay with his sister,they had been isolated from the outside world. Damrod dared not visit, other than very infrequently, and he knew little, save that Faramir was the talk of the City for for his increasingly outrageous comments made in the Council Chamber. The two women could only hope that Faramir's plan was working. Arwen had never wavered in her steadfast belief that her husband was alive though,until now.

"It was no dream! He is dying !" Arwen insisted.

Eowyn placed a comforting arm around the Queen and could feel her trembling violently beneath her touch."You must be strong. Reach out to him with your love !"she counselled,though having no idea if such a thing were possible.

As if he too sensed something was wrong, Eldarion began to wail in obvious distress.

"I will try," Arwen said tearfully,reaching to to take her child from his cradle.

Eowyn could only watch and hope as the Queen soothed her son and then sat with a look of intense concentration upon her face. She seemed no longer aware of her surroundings. It seemed almost, as if she wandered in some distant realm,seeking for one who was lost.

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Faramir hastened out into the freezing night wondering if it were possible to fulfil either of her requests.'Why did the weather have to be so unseasonably cold? It was almost as if the Valar were conspiring against them!' Faramir thought bitterly, wondering which direction he should take.

He debated whether or not to call Zachus but decided against searching on horseback, lest he should miss some vital clue on the ground.

A careful search of the idea area surrounding the cave mouth revealed nothing. The snow started to fall more heavily, making his task even harder.

He debated which direction to look in first and decided the stream would be Aragorn's most likely choice of destination. He had been plagued by thirst and would hear the sound of running water and follow it.

Slipping and sliding on the snow, he made his way down to the water's edge, dreading what he might find. Trying to stop his hand from shaking, he swept the torch over the shallow water but there was no sign of Aragorn. Nor could he see anything which suggested that his worse fears had been realised. Although relieved his King had not drowned, he had hoped against hope maybe he would discover him there still alive and trying to shelter on the banks..

The only other place he could be, was somewhere in the forest, where finding him these conditions would be extremely difficult,if not impossible. He could not have got far,though,being hardly able to walk.

A flash of inspiration hit him."Roheryn!" he called, hoping that the Elvish stallion's bond with his master might help him find Aragorn.

There was no answer and he called again more loudly. The snow seemed to muffle his voice. Then he heard a soft whinnying and lifted the torch to behold Aragorn's stallion carefully picking his way amongst the trees.

Roheryn's soft nose urgently nuzzled his arm as if trying to persuade him to follow him. Without hesitation he did so,trying not to lose sight of the stallion as he made his way towards him.

"Whatever dark and feverish dreams had caused Aragorn to wander out in conditions like this?' he mused. A dreadful thought struck him; that the King might be so afraid of him that he had sought to escape before he could inflict any further tortures upon his pain racked body. No doubt he still feared that Faramir was part of the conspiracy to try to force him to sign the document, which would put his wife and child in danger!

Faramir stumbled on through the snow,now clutching at Roheryn's mane to help him keep his balance on the slippery ground .He let the horse lead him though the trees until they came to a clearing.

He looked around puzzled as to why the stallion had brought him here. There was nothing to see but the ghostly shapes of the trees,stretching as far as the eye could see.

What looked like an upturned log almost escaped his attention, until Roheryn broke away from him and stood over the still form, neighing wildly and nuzzling it gently.

Stumbling and sliding as he ran, Faramir finally reached his goal and fell on his knees beside the still form of his King. He could not have been there very long as his face and body were almost devoid of falling snow. However,he was bitterly cold to the touch and did not stir as Faramir called his name.

"Aragorn, mellon nin, can you hear me?"

There was no reply only the oppressive silence of the snow clad forest. Even Roheryn had stopped snorting and seemed to be holding his breath in anticipation.

Thrusting the torch in the snow beside him, the Steward felt for a pulse but could find none. He then thrust his hand inside the thin shirt in search of a heartbeat but his questing fingers met only with icy and lifeless seeming flesh.

"No, you cannot die!" he cried in anguish, "You cannot ! I love you too much! You were the father I longed for, the brother I lost and the King we all yearned for! Do not leave me now! What of Arwen and Eldarion? " He bent and kissed the icy brow in farewell, devastated that all his efforts to save his King had been for nought.

He could hardly believe it. That it should come to this, the King of Gondor and Arnor frozen to death in the forest like some hapless lowly beggar!

Unreasonable anger welled up within him. He had lied, been disowned by his beloved uncle,become a traitor and a torturer and killed and sent good men to their deaths in cold blood and all for nothing!Aragorn had been slowly growing stronger; but instead of using his Numenorean vitality to recover he had decided instead to come out here to die.

He shook the limp form beside him furiously; before remembering that most likely the King had chosen such a course of action because of him. He laid him down reverently again for a moment. Then fiercely clasped him in his arms and wept bitterly,each sob, a howl of anguish shattering the forest stillness.

He was sorely tempted to lie down and die beside his King, knowing that his own cruel deeds had beyond doubt, driven his lordto his lonely death. How could he tell Arwen of her husband's fate? How could he tell Eowyn that he had failed and how low her husband had sunk?

Then he knew that however painful it would be, he must try to return safely to his wife and child and not abandon Elbeth alone in the wilderness. He doubted not though, that soon his heart would break and he would follow his lord beyond the circles of the world.

TBC

_A very grateful thank you to you all for your much appreciated comments. I have replied to everyone who logged in._

_Aplogies for the shortness of the chapter but the natural break seemed to come here.Also,as I had the chance I wanted to give my readers a speedy update._

_My apologies for any errors that you might find, my usual Word processor is not working and I am having to use one I am unfamiliar with._


	33. Two are better than one

_These characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

_**Some ideas in this chapter were inspired by Nightwing's gripping"To see a World" and is used with her kind permission.**_

**_Warning - This Chapter contains severe angst and may distress sensitive readers._**

**Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone? And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.**

**Bible: Ecclesiastes, 4:9-12.**

Faramir knew that he could not leave his King's lifeless body here for ravening wolves to devour. The beasts would be abroad, as soon as the weather improved enough for them to venture out of their dens, and they would be hungry.

He reverently scooped up the still form and gently laid it across Roheryn's back. Numb, and heavy of heart with cold and grief, he made his way the hundred yards or so back to the cave.

To his surprise, Roheryn followed him into the inner cave, where he took the burden from his back and carefully carried it inside. A glimmer of hope flared anew once within the cosy sanctuary, which Elbeth had minded well during his absence.

He had known men, he had served with, fall into freezing water and appear dead, only to revive once they were warmed, if they had been rescued before they could drown. If only a healer were here! Maybe they would know how to detect some sign of life?

He knew though, that he must try,however hopeless the task. He had no idea how to break the news to Elbeth that her friend was dead. It would be better for her to believe that he has at least died here, rather than alone in the snow.

Elbeth rushed towards them. "How is Strider, Uncle Faramir?" she asked ,an expression of dismay on her face,"He doesn't look very well!Why has he turned such a funny colour ?"

Faramir desperately sought the right words to break the dreadful news to her gently. He swiftly carried Aragorn to the fire and laid down on a pelt in front of it. He lifted the simmering pot of water from the fire and put it to one side to cool slightly.

"He is very ill indeed because he is so cold. We need to try to warm him," Faramir explained, already pulling the cold, damp shirt from Aragorn's inert frame."Turn your back,please, as I need to get these damp clothes off him. Can you get some towels and hand them to me? "

To his relief Elbeth obeyed without asking any further questions,her demeanor suggesting that already, she suspected the cruel truth.

Swiftly, he removed the freezing and sodden bandages and finally the drawers from Aragorn's skeletal frame. He tested the temperature of the water, to see it had cooled sufficiently so as not to cause shock, if by some miracle any flicker of life remained. He bathed Aragorn's body with it, hoping that it would thaw him.

Drying him quickly, he clothed him in fresh drawers, laid him on the bedroll and wrapped as many blankets as he could find around him, as well as one of the pelts,laid fur side downwards. Aragorn remained cold and still,his skin pale and blue tinged. Faramir was increasingly certain that all his ministrations were in vain. Vainly, he pressed his ear to the icy chest,detecting not the slightest flutter of life in the brief moment he was able to endure holding it there.

Yet,he could not bring himself to own that it was a hopeless task. More memories from his days in the army came flooding back . He remembered; how once Mablung had been wounded and left for dead overnight in freezing rain. They had gone the next morning to retrieve the body for burial when Damrod had suggested that they warm him before giving up hope. To everyone's surprise, he had made a complete recovery.

"Uncle Faramir,can I turn around yet? How is Strider ?"Elbeth's anxious voice roused him from his reverie.

"Yes, you can turn around,"Faramir replied,"Strider is no better."

"He will wake up and get better won't he? Please say that he will,Uncle Faramir!"

"I just do not know, Elbeth," Faramir replied sadly.

"He can't die,he can't !"Elbeth protested,bursting into tears."Please can't you help him?"

Slight though the chances of success were,Faramir realised there was only one method left that he could still try; to warm him as he had done in the Hunting Lodge, though ideally it needed at least two for that method to be effective. Aragorn was far colder than he had been then and most likely beyond all human aid. If only Eowyn were here to help him! Also, the King had trusted his Steward then, when now he both feared and no doubt hated him. Yet Faramir had to try,even though he shuddered at the prospect of clasping what felt like a block of ice against his skin. Yet, so great was his devotion to his King, that even if trying to warm him cost his life, he would give it gladly.

He turned to Elbeth."I am going to undress and try and use the warmth from my own body to help him . The fire and the blankets are not enough."

"I want to help too!" she insisted, "I'm nice and warm,I can hold him too!"

Faramir shook his head,and threw some more wood on the fire. He could not permit a child to clasp what was most likely a corpse in her arms! Taking a deep breath, he started to undress,already shivering as he pulled his warm outer tunic over his head. "No, Elbeth, he is so cold that it would hurt you to touch him. I need you to keep putting wood on the fire as it burns down."

"Please!" she begged, her lip trembling,"he is my friend!"

Faramir relented,removing his shirt as he spoke."Well, you can wrap yourself warmly in your blanket and lie the other side of him."

"Do you want me to take my clothes off too?"she enquired.

"No !" Faramir replied hastily."Just huddle close to him."

Even with the fire blazing, the air in the cave felt cold and damp on his newly bared chest and arms. He was starting to develop goose bumps already. He was too distraught about Aragorn's condition to care what Elbeth might think, even though it was considered most improper to appear shirtless in front of a lady of noble lineage,however young.

Shedding his boots,he slid under the covers beside his King, enfolding the icy body close against his warm one, trying his utmost not to recoil from his freezing flesh. Under the cover of the blankets,he wriggled out of his breeches,but retained his drawers for propriety's sake.

It took all his willpower not to cry out and recoil from the icy flesh pressed close against his chest and belly. He tried to breath deeply and directed the warm breath against Aragorn's neck. He was sorely tempted to at least replace his shirt, but remembered Damrod saying that it was important to try to warm the heart first.

Aragorn still gave no sign of life and Faramir felt overwhelmed by grief and helplessness. His hot tears involuntarily fell on his King's icy brow.

"Please, please live!" he whispered in Elvish, " You have given me so much. All of the love that my father denied me and even my very life as well as that of my wife and child! I love you ,father and brother of my soul, please come back to me! I cannot bear to lose you! Let me restore you to Arwen and your son!"

He wondered if he should try to sing as he had done in the Hunting Lodge but feared if Aragorn could hear it would only distress him and sap any remaining will to live.

"Elbeth do you know any songs?" he asked through chattering teeth.

"Lots!" she replied,gamely snuggling closer to Aragorn's frozen back.

"Will you sing them to Strider then?" he asked.

"Of course!"

He lifted his head to check she was warmly wrapped in her blanket.

"There was a pretty little cat who went to catch a mouse;

but when the stars and moon came out,

it ran back in the house!" Elbeth sang in a clear childish voice, sending a wistful pang through Faramir's heart.

Faramir could remember his mother singing him to sleep with that song long ago, and it tore at his heart. He had lost her,then Boromir and his father. How could he bear to lose Aragorn too? He clutched him all the more tightly and begged Elbeth to continue singing.

Aragorn looked so peaceful now that he could have been asleep,were it not for his dreadful pallor and sunken cheeks. Faramir remembered wistfully all the times when Aragorn had devotedly cared for him,even when he tried to reject all the kindness he had so freely offered. It seemed so unjust that such a warm and generous heart should be stilled by the bitter cold !

Gradually,Faramir started to grow colder despite the mountain of covers, transferring his warmth to the frozen man in his arms. He felt Aragorn slowly becoming warmer. He told Elbeth to throw more logs on the fire and felt some warmth returning to his own body as the fire blazed up.

Elbeth's singing died away as weariness overcame her and the exhausted child fell asleep. Faramir maintained his lonely vigil knowing that if Aragorn were alive, he would show some sign once he grew warm. He became increasingly anxious as the hours passed.

Suddenly, he felt it: a faint heartbeat reverberating against his own ! Silent and heartfelt tears of relief ran down his cheeks and he could have shouted for joy. He pressed Aragorn closer to his chest and began to gently massage his ribs at the back After a while,the King groaned and started to shiver violently making it difficult to keep his hold on him.

He thought he had heard somewhere that this was a good sign and hoped that it were true. More than ever he longed for Eowyn to be by his side."Come on !" he whispered in Elvish, "You can recover, I know it !You are strong,so fight to live with that strength!You are safe now,none shall harm you while I live."

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The night seemed endless for Eowyn, as she attempted to alternately soothe both Arwen and Elestelle,all the while trying to contain her own mounting sense of panic. If Aragorn were to die,she was certain that Faramir, as well as Arwen, would quickly follow.

She had long since realised that Elves, and men of Numenorean descent, formed such strong mental bonds that they became entwined in each other's souls. She was very grateful not to have inherited such a dubious "gift" from her grandmother. Someone had to take a practical view and be ready to care for the two orphaned babies that would result. She had come to love Eldarion almost as her own and would never abandon him, but however could she alone protect two infants in a world so hostile to them?

Eldarion had his uncles but they could hardly provide the milk that he needed,powerful Elves though they might be! All she could look forward to; was depending on Eomer's charity for the rest of her days,should Faramir and Aragorn fall,a fate she dreaded,much though she loved her brother.

Initially, she had only accepted Faramir's proposal because she had no wish to return to Rohan. Now she had come to love him deeply and become a blissfully happy wife. Arwen too,she loved as a dear sister and could not bear to lose either of them. Then there was Aragorn,who had blazed across Middle earth like a comet and whose loss would grieve her deeply.

Arwen alternately stared into space or shook and sobbed, while Eowyn sat with her arms around her,trying vainly to comfort her. Both babies whimpered incessantly and refused to be comforted. Eowyn had a strong suspicion that Elestelle was experiencing some sort of mental link either with Aragorn or her own father too.

Suddenly Arwen relaxed and both infants ceased crying. The Queen turned to look at her friend and smiled."He lives," she said, "Estel lives, his life force waxes much stronger now !"

Eowyn burst into tears ,which was most unlike her,but so great was her relief,she was no longer able to contain her emotion. None of this made any sense to her and yet she knew Arwen was speaking the truth.

She sniffed loudly before saying,"That is very good news,I will make us some tea !"

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Gradually,Aragorn's breathing deepened. His cold flesh became warmer and a trace of colour returned to his pallid features. He appeared now to be a natural sleep.

Overcome by exhaustion, Faramir slept too.

He had no idea for how long he slept,but when he awoke he was confused as to why Aragorn was in his arms and they were under so many covers. Then he remembered. He carefully disentangled himself and felt for a heartbeat. It was strong and steady. He could have laughed for sheer joy.

He glanced across the now sleeping King and smiled to see Elbeth still curled up fast asleep on the other side, cocooned in her blanket.

Slowly he sat up, noticing for the first time that his arms and chest felt damp and sticky. He took up the candle and pulled the blankets aside to investigate, discovering that Aragorn's infected wounds had at last burst and drained their contents. Quickly, he replaced them and pulled on his breeches before sliding out from under the covers. He knew Aragorn would become distressed if he found him beside him after all that had happened and he needed to tend his wounds before he woke up.

Grabbing his discarded shirt, he mopped himself with it before donning it again,together with his tunic. He then some water on the fire to heat.

Gathering together the supply of salves and bandages, he gently bathed Aragorn's wounds, wiping away the pus and fresh blood which now oozed from them, before applying a mild salve of calendula and carefully bandaging them. Aragorn moaned slightly but did not awaken. To his dismay,he noticed that the King's hands and feet were purple and swollen and looked extremely painful.

Remembering Eowyn had told him that a hot drink was beneficial,Faramir put more water on the fire to boil.

While he was waiting, he quickly washed his handsbefore making some tea and trying to rouse the King.

"Aragorn!" he called gently, wondering what manner of reception he would get."Come, wake up!"

TBC

_A very grateful thank you to you all for your much appreciated comments.You have now helped me pass the 700 reviews mark !I have replied to everyone who logged in._

_My apologies for any errors that you might find, my usual Word processor is not working and I am having to use one I am unfamiliar with._

_Thank you to those readers who inspired the section about Arwen in the previous chapter._

_Faramir is referring to 'Shadow and Thought' Chapters 18 and 19 as well as some of the events in 'Burden of Guilt'._


	34. What is truth ?

_These Characters are the property of the Estate of J. R. R Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story has been written for pleasure and no profit has or will be made from it._

**Every path to a new understanding begins in confusion.Mason Cooley (b. 1927),**

**In the greatest confusion there is still an open channel to the soul.- Saul Bellow 1915 -**

**"What is truth" ? The Bible**

**_With grateful thanks to Raksha without whose help I would still be tearing my hair out !_**

The King stirred and moaned slightly but did not awaken.

Faramir began to question the wisdom of awakening him,yet felt it was important that he had something to drink. He wondered though, if it would have been better to rouse Elbeth first and ask her to give it to him. The child was sleeping so peacefully however,he had not the heart to disturb her unless he had to. She had sat up for most of the night singing for the unconscious Aragorn and making no complaint at being reduced to having only a single blanket to protect her from the cold.

"Aragorn,wake up!" Faramir called again. As Aragorn did not open his eyes, he went to where the clothing was stored and took out a clean shirt and placed it by the fire to warm.

Aragorn fought against the return of conciousness . He had long since grown to associate it it with pain. He had been cold and then a wonderful sense of peace had enfolded him and he had felt himself floating towards a glorious light. He could hear his mother and Halbarad calling to him but just as he was about to embrace them,he had been pulled back through what seemed like a long dark tunnel.

Arwen had been at the other side,pleading with him to stay with her and he had seen his son too and Elestelle. They both looked bigger than he had remembered. Then he had been cold,so very cold but loving arms had enfolded him, their warmth seeping into his own frozen body. He had heard singing in a child's clear innocent tones.

Then had been another voice,which sounded oddly like Faramir's but could not have been, a voice cracked with emotion telling him how much he was loved and needed. That same voice was calling him now,but he yearned only to escape from the pain ,which ravaged almost every inch of his frail body. His wounds throbbed painfully, as did some new hurts in his hands and feet. Had he been tortured again while he slept ?

Without opening his eyes,he tried to take stock of his surroundings. He was no longer in the cellar and appeared to be lying on some soft bedding. The single moth-eaten blanket had been replaced by layers of warm covers,with the soft fur of a pelt next to his skin. With a start,he realised that he was virtually naked and wearing nothing but a pair of drawers. He remembered Hanna demanding that he be stripped, but why had they left him anything if they planned to utterly humiliate him? Most surprisingly,his wounds had been bandaged, albeit very inexpertly and his hands and feet were no longer fettered.He was dreadfully thirsty.

Whimpering with pain, he finally opened his eyes to behold Faramir kneeling beside him, with a cup in his hand.

Faramir held his breath,wondering how the King would react. Aragorn looked at him with a bewildered rather than fearful expression. He held out the cup, preparing to rouse Elbeth if he would not take it.

"Drink this, my liege. It will help you," he said gently."See,it is not poisoned !" To prove his words, he took a drink and swallowed it.

He then supported Aragorn's head and held the cup to his lips.

In too much pain and too thirsty to resist,Aragorn drank sipping the soothing drink thankfully,until the cup was drained.

Faramir settled his head back on the pillow. Even this slight movement made the King whimper with pain."I will fetch you some poppy juice in a moment,"the Steward said,his eyes showing his distress at his lord's obvious agony.

Faramir reached out to feel the King's brow. It was cool; the fever had broken! He made to move away before the King could become agitated at the sight of him, but a faltering hand reached out towards him and took his. The fingers looked red and raw as the snow had made the chilblains much worse.

"Faramir?" Aragorn whispered in a cracked voice.

"I am here, my lord, be easy!" Faramir replied his voice choked with emotion. He wondered what would happen now Aragorn seemed in his right mind again.

The King looked at him with a puzzled expression as if trying to recall something, and then groaned again at the increasingly painful sensations returning to his hands and feet.

Faramir reached for the now warmed shirt."Let me help you put this on or you will be cold,"he said.

Aragorn had little choice but to allow the garment to be slipped over his head. He was too weak to resist and knew he needed clothes if he were to leave this place.

"You were out in the snow, " Faramir explained, pulling the shirt down and tucking the covers round him snugly again. "Your fingers and toes need tending. They look to be covered in chilblains as do your ears!"

Aragorn breathed deeply and looked down at his reddened fingers."Good idea, red not black,does not look too bad, not severe frostbite," he murmured,conceding that Faramir was correct.

The Steward mixed some poppy juice and offered it his lord."Drink this to ease the pain !" he said,again taking a small sip to prove it was safe to swallow.

Aragorn wanted to refuse but when another groan involuntarily rose to his lips,he swallowed,ashamed of showing such weakness.

Faramir fetched some bandages and a salve of black bryony, which he knew would to keep the skin supple and ease the pain. It was a remedy popular amongst his men during their time in Ithilien. He worked in silence noting how Aragorn bit his lip and whimpered. The usually lively grey eyes were dull and clouded. The Ring of Barahir now dug painfully into the swollen flesh, too tight now to remove.

He then pulled the covers away from the King's feet and painstakingly repeated the process with each reddened and swollen toe.

Aragorn bore the pain stoically all the while feeling more bewildered at Faramir's strange behaviour. This was his Faramir, the loyal friend and Steward he loved as a brother, who was trying to tend him as gently as he could. Yet this was also the traitor who had tortured him so cruelly.

Bewildered, he wondered if it were some sort of trick to make him sign the marriage contract by lulling him into a false sense of security. Fragments of memory from when he was drifting in and out of consciousness, flitted through his brain. He was sure that he remembered how Faramir had been weeping and telling him how he loved him and wanted to restore him to his wife and son. He could not understand his behaviour at all.

There, my lord, are you more comfortable? Would you like another drink? " Faramir asked after applying the salve to his ears. He tucked the covers round his chin and started to move away.

"Tell me why you betrayed me!" Aragorn demanded,a little strength returning to him as the poppy juice eased his pain.

"I am sorry ,my lord, I meant it only as a deception so that I might rescue you," Faramir replied,unable to look Aragorn in the eye as he whispered," I never wanted to torture you !"

"How can I believe you ?" Aragorn replied,"You swore fealty to me and assured me of your love once. You have broken those vows! You even stole my ring !"

"Never in my heart,sire!"Faramir replied,"I sought only to save you and when your Queen suggested that I pretend to join the rebels I agreed to do so. See your ring is back on your finger!If I truly sought to betray you. I could have told them I knew how to operate your seal but I did not!

"You branded me !" Aragorn said accusingly. He wanted to trust Faramir but could not. The image of him advancing,red hot iron in hand, would be forever seared in his brain.

"If I had not done so,I would have been unmasked !" Faramir replied, close to tears." I had to do it. As soon as I could, I drugged you to make them believe you were dead and escaped with you.. Ask Elbeth, when she awakens. She is asleep the other side of you." He told him, helping him turn his head so that he could see her blanket- shrouded form.

"Must know!" Aragorn feebly reached out with his hand, trying to touch Faramir's head and sense his thoughts before remembering that he had broken the bond.

"You severed our Thought Bond," Faramir said sadly,"I understand why but I feel my soul is torn asunder !

Aragorn hesitated. He had no desire to bond with a traitor,yet if Faramir were telling the truth,it would most likely kill him him,were the link not at least partially restored. He distrusted him, yet the love he had once borne him, still lingered sufficiently for him not to want to risk destroying the younger man.

"It can be remade! Place your head against mine !"Aragorn tried to sound commanding but his voice emerged as a feeble croak.

Faramir gulped; he had not dared to hope that he would ever again share the thought bond with his King but was eager to do so, albeit this would surely be for the last time.

He lay down beside Aragorn so that their heads could easily touch, only to find their carven Numenorean noses got in the way. He could not help but smile at the memory of the first time that had happened and there was an answering hint of a smile in Aragorn's pain filled eyes.

Helping the King to a sitting position propped against his pillows, Faramir pressed his forehead against his King's.

It surprised him how quickly the bond was re –established as almost immediately the dreadful emptiness within him was healed. Yet he found it impossible to sense anything other than cruel images of pain and suffering within the King's mind. Whether it was because it was too much to endure, or that they lacked sufficient accord,he did not know. What he could sense was overwhelming in its horror.

From what he had witnessed, and the cruel marks on the King's tortured body, he had some idea of how much his friend had suffered, but only now could he envisage something of what Aragorn had endured, the pain, the imprisonment, the humiliation the hunger, thirst and loneliness that he had known,and worse still,the anguish and despair he had felt when Faramir had betrayed him.

For his part, Aragorn could sense even less,as he could not bring himself to fully form a Thought Bond with one he trusted so little and he was too weak to fully utilise his mental abilities. He could sense guilt,pity and regret but could not decide whether Faramir regretted betraying him or those he had chosen to join forces with.

Exhausted at the effort, he fell back against the pillows.

Faramir sat slumped, his head in his hands, increasingly alarmed for his King as never before had he seen him in such despair. He could sense how much he was missing Arwen but it went far deeper than that as he sensed an inner brokenness, which he could only hope, she would be able to mend.

"Arwen and my son?" Aragorn whispered.

"They are both safe. Damrod has taken them into hiding together with Eowyn and Elestelle," Faramir reassured him.

Aragorn sighed with relief and settled more easily.

He could not trust Faramir but at present he was too weak to refuse his aid. He could sense no deception in him and for the moment that would have to suffice. He could no longer resist the urge to sleep and escape the pain. He surrendered to the poppy juice and knew no more.

TBC

A/N

_A very grateful thank you to you all for your much appreciated comments. I have replied to everyone who logged in._

_My apologies for any errors that you might find, my usual Word processor is not working and I am having to use one I am unfamiliar with until at least after Christmas._

_From now on, I am having to to do much more rewriting from my original draft than previously, as this story has taken a different direction from what I originally planned. Therefore, it might take longer for me to post new chapters. _


	35. Oh what joy, to breathe fresh air !

_These characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**O, welche Lust in freier Luft ****Den Atem leich zu heben !**

**Oh what joy, in the open air,Freely to breathe again! - ****Fidelio -Bethoven/Sonnleithner **

Once assured that the King was sleeping soundly. Faramir decided that he was badly in need of a wash and a change of linens. He went outside to fetch some water and answer nature's call, checking on the horses while he was there.

Returning as quickly as he could, he put the icy water on the fire to heat,collected some soap and towels and found a clean shirt and drawers for himself amongst the clothing he had brought.

Aragorn had not stirred while he was away. His main concern now; was that Elbeth might awake while he was washing .He dared not risk taking a chill by bathing outside. With his back turned to the sleeping child, he secured a towel around his waist, before removing his drawers and breeches then sponged his lower body clean under it to shield both himself and Elbeth. He then donned clean drawers and put his breeches back on.

The Steward then peeled off his shirt and tunic. His teeth chattering with the cold, he thoroughly washed away the detritus of the King's wounds from his body. By the time he was finished and had towelled himself dry,he was covered in goosebumps. Swiftly he donned a clean shirt and replaced his tunic. He dared not risk any infection for himself as it seemed Aragorn was likely to be dependant on him for some time to come. Elbeth was too young to survive alone here,however resourceful she might be.

Carefully, he slid his hand under the covers and Aragorn's loose shirt to feel that he was warm enough. Reassured that he was,he dared risk removing two of the blankets. He tucked one around Elbeth for extra warmth and kept the second to wrap around himself.

He settled down near to Aragorn and once satisfied that the King appeared fairly comfortable, tried to rest, yet sleep was slow to come .He felt complete again, now the thought bond was re-established. He wondered that as it had formed again so easily if maybe it had never been completely severed .He was grateful beyond measure that Aragorn had seen fit to restore the link with him. He knew the King did not trust him, but then how could he ever expect to be trusted again ? The pain and despair he had sensed in his friend's soul had truly appalled him. Aragorn had endured torments beyond anything he had imagined. He wondered if even an exceptional man, such as the king undoubtedly was, could ever hope to recover.

For one who even found the huge apartments in the Citadel confining, whatever must it have been like to spend weeks chained in a dark cellar ? Not only a helpless captive;but deprived of adequate food and water and constantly tortured? He had no idea how he could help his King. He only wished that Arwen were here to console her husband with her Elven strength and wisdom.

Aragorn cried out in his sleep, restless despite the liberal dose of poppy juice he had been given. Faramir could do little but smooth his hair and murmur Elvish words of comfort. When the King finally settled, exhaustion overcame him.

He awoke again hours later. Aragorn appeared to be in a deep natural sleep and his flesh felt to be a normal temperature. Elbeth had burrowed into her blankets like a nest.

Deciding he could safely leave them for a little while, Faramir took his bow and went out in search of food.

He was fortunate to quickly take down a rabbit grazing on the patch of grass he had cleared for the horses. The snowfall of the previous night had only covered it thinly and already it was melting in the weak morning sunshine. It was still very cold but looked as if it were going to be a fine day for the sky was clear and no longer overcast by storm clouds.

He took the rabbit back inside the cave and was starting to prepare it for the pot when Elbeth awoke and came over to him.

"Is Strider getting better?"she asked."He no longer looks such a funny colour."

Faramir smiled at her."He is much better today," he told her.

"Will he be able to play with me ?" she asked delightedly.

"Not for a while yet," Faramir replied."It might be a long,long time before he is well again but I think he _will_ get better now."

Satisfied,albeit slightly disappointed, Elbeth turned her attention to other matters. "I'm hungry! When can we have breakfast?" she demanded, " I want to play snowballs again today! When can I go out?"

"After you have eaten your breakfast unless you have to go out now." Faramir told her patiently. Then realising that he was hungry too, he left off his task and prepared some oatmeal for them both while Aragorn was still sleeping.

After they had eaten. he sent Elbeth out to play and collected what he needed to tend to Aragorn. who was showing signs of awakening. He made some tea and approached the bedroll where he lay.

The King opened his eyes and stared wildly around him; making Faramir fear for a moment that he was feverish again. He then focused his eyes on his Steward and looked at him questioningly.

Faramir knelt beside his lord and smiled reassuringly.

"Where am I?" Aragorn asked hesitantly.

"You are in a cave in the forest,"Faramir explained."I brought you here."He hesitated and stopped to think ,trying to recall the passing of the days which all seemed to have blurred into one."It was two or three nights ago," he said at last.

Aragorn struggled to sit up. Faramir was immediately at his side, supporting him and placing pillows to support his back.

"Easy!" he cautioned, "You need to get your strength back!"

Aragorn grabbed Faramir's wrist with his bandaged hand, "Am I your prisoner now ?" he demanded.

"No, no, my dear lord." Faramir reassured him." You are no prisoner. As soon as you are well enough I will take you to your wife and son and Eowyn can tend your wounds properly."

Aragorn looked from from convinced."Is it daylight?" he asked.

"Yes, I think it is about noon."Faramir told him.

"I want to see the sky! " Aragorn said suddenly.

"And so you shall as soon as you are well,"Faramir soothed, "Now drink this hot tea, it will do you good!"

" You tell me I am not a prisoner ? You lie! I want to see the sky now!" Aragorn demanded

"No,my lord, I fear only that you might take a chill,"Faramir replied.

"I have been in the dark so long!" Becoming increasingly agitated,Aragorn tried to struggle to his feet but immediately fell back helplessly amongst his nest of blankets."Faramir please,help me ! I cannot endure this darkness any more." His tone was pleading rather than accusatory now.

"I will light more candles, sire." Faramir was becoming increasingly alarmed fearing the damage that agitation could do to his friend's already very fragile health. He felt the King's forehead for fever but there was none.

"Please, for the sake of the love you once bore me , let me see the sky again!" Aragorn pleaded. "I feel so trapped in here!"

"You have my love still and always will,sire." Faramir said sadly.

"Then prove I am no prisoner! Let me see the sky !"

Faramir realised there was only one way to calm his King as obviously his horror of being confined was troubling him.

"I will have to carry you then," he said, his eyes full of compassion."Put your arms round my neck and hold on!"

Aragorn looked doubtful,as if the thought of Faramir carrying him repulsed him. He then nodded resignedly.

Faramir peeled back several of the blankets, wrapping those that remained and the fur tightly around Aragorn's skeletal frame and bodily lifted him. Once such an act would have been almost impossible, yet he had done it several times over the last days.

He staggered to the cave entrance, his precious burden in his arms.

The sun was now high in the sky, which was a clear frosty blue. What still remained of the snow sparkled in the winter sunlight.

Aragorn gazed up at the sky, his expression rapt. Tears started to slowly trickle down his haggard cheeks. "I never thought to see the sky or breathe the sweet air again!" he whispered.

Faramir felt his back would break soon but felt compelled to linger a moment or two longer."Here is Roheryn!" he exclaimed, as the stallion whinnied and trotted towards his master. "See Elbeth is over there, playing snowballs!"

The little girl then caught sight of them and joyfully ran towards them .

"Strider, you are better!"she exclaimed joyfully,"But why are you crying?"

"I can see the sky!" was all Aragorn could say,"I can breathe again!"

"Elbeth, can you help me support his legs!" Faramir asked her urgently, fearing he would drop Aragorn any moment. He felt something in his back give way and gritted his teeth.

The child did as she was told while Roheryn nuzzled his master ecstatically. Faramir waited for him to caress the velvety nose before gently saying,"I fear I cannot hold you any longer and you could take a chill if we stay here."

Aragorn was now weeping too much to speak coherently.

Faramir turned and carried Aragorn back inside with Elbeth helping as best she could. They could still hear Roheryn whinnying when they reached the inner cave.

"You go back to play now," Faramir told Elbeth, when Aragorn was laid back on his bedroll. "I need to give the King a wash and change his clothes."

"Just a minute, I have something important to do first!" She bent to kiss Aragorn saying,"There I've kissed you better, you can stop crying now!" before running out into the sunlight again.

"Thank you," Aragorn whispered." I feared I would die in the darkness without seeing the sun and the sky one last time!"

It was Faramir's turn to blink back the tears.

The tea was still drinkable and he held the cup to Aragorn's lips while he composed himself. Taking a pan of warm water from the fire, he gently bathed the King's tear stained face. At least the he seemed somewhat more settled now. He let him rest for a few minutes before exposing him, to what he knew would be an ordeal for such a proud and self contained man, to be bathed like an infant and have his bandages changed.

TBC

A/N

_A very grateful thank you to you all for your much appreciated comments. I have replied to everyone who logged in._

_My apologies for any errors that you might find, my usual Word processor is not working and I am having to use one I am unfamiliar with._

_I have deleted the scene with Faramir bathing in chapter 33 in favour of an expanded version in this chapter._

_Aragorn cannot force his way into another's mind. I assumed Arwen might have inherited that ability from Galadriel. My Thought Bond requires complete love and trust to work properly. Aragorn wanted to try and sense the truth and not risk Faramir's life by withholding the link. _


	36. Ride a cockhorse to Banbury Cross,

_These characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,  
To see a fine lady upon a white horse;  
With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes  
She shall have music wherever she goes.** -**Traditional nursery rhyme **

Faramir steeled himself for the task ahead . He found it hard enough when Aragorn was asleep or too feverish to know what was happening. He picked up a blanket ready to cover the King with and stood fingering it uneasily." I need to undress you to bathe you and tend to your wounds," he said,wishing more than ever that a Healer were here."Do you need the chamber pot ?"

The King nodded reluctantly,regarding his Steward with an expression reminiscent of a trapped animal poised between fight and flight,all too aware that he was unable to do either. Somehow,he had managed to retain some vestiges of dignity during his captivity,most likely because his captors still held him in some awe. He had also been alone for most of time and mercifully able to use the bucket to answer nature's calls in private. Now he required assistance even for that.

Faramir tactfully averted his eyes.Aragorn found it greatly humiliating to rely on one of his tormentors for assistance in such intimate matters. When Faramir had cared for him at the Hunting Lodge,he had trusted the man,which had made it so much easier to bear.

He now had to endure the trials of having his clothing removed,albeit under a blanket, and being bathed like an infant and then rubbed with something that smelt much like the salve Arwen and the nanny used for Eldarion's napkin rash ! Then came more salves, this time something made with comfrey and arnica according to the smell of it. Faramir's touch was far from gentle. It was impossible to tell whether this was from embarrassment, or a desire to cause him further pain though Faramir's expression of abject misery suggested the former.

He glanced at Faramir's face. From his expression; it would be difficult to decide which of them was the more uncomfortable. He hated his own weakness; in not even being able to bathe himself and apply the salves. Simply raising his head required considerable effort.

He fell back against the pillow and closed his eyes. To his relief he finally felt clean underwear being drawn over his hips. He shivered with cold as the covering blanket was removed. Faramir laid warm covers over his legs. His ordeal was far from over ,however now Faramir turned his attentions to the severe wounds on his upper body

Aragorn forced himself to open his eyes and and see clearly for the first time what damage had been done to him. The bandages were heavily stained and had stuck to his skin. He tensed in the anticipation of having them roughly pulled off. Instead Faramir dabbed them with warm water and soaked them off quite gently.

He was shocked at what was finally revealed, despite his all too vivid memories of the pain and his Healer's knowledge and experience. There was hardly an inch of normal skin visible on his arms,chest and belly ,so many were the cuts,bruises and patches of flesh from where the skin had been brutally torn. The wounds still oozed but the worst of the infection seemed to have subsided. On his shoulder was burned the mark which identified Devorin's cattle,a truly humiliating disfigurement.

When Faramir started to bathe his wounds,he closed his eyes then clenched his teeth to stop himself from crying out. They were extremely painful.

"What should I put on them?" Faramir asked.

"Honey if you have any," Aragorn replied through clenched teeth,hoping he could endure the pain.

"It will sting." Faramir warned somewhat unnecessarily. Had the man forgotten he had been a Healer long before he was even conceived?

"I know that," Aragorn replied wearily, "The butcher did a lot of damage." He shuddered to recall the memories of the knife cruelly teasing his flesh. He shivered again.

"Which was he?" Faramir asked picking up the honey, knowing he must do this quickly before the King became chilled and he lost his nerve.

"A servant,big, burly man, delighted in telling me what his old trade was whenever he skinned me!"Aragorn replied," He was once one of your father's executioners and an expert in causing lingering pain and enjoying it."

"I killed him in cold blood during our escape." Faramir's tone was devoid of expression leaving Aragorn wondering if he regretted the deed or simply the manner of its execution. Had the man been one of his accomplices ? The pain then became so severe he was incapable even of rational thought.

Faramir began began to smear generous amounts of honey to the raw patches disfiguring Aragorn's chest, belly and arms. The King was no longer able to repress his cries of pain at the agony it caused him. He was sweating now, despite the chill damp of the cave. Silent tears of agony rolled down his cheeks. He wanted Arwen's comforting presence so badly but how could he permit to see him thus? Once he could have turned to Faramir for solace but no longer. The Steward's very touch revolted him now.

Faramir hated himself for having to inflict such pain on his lord,needful though it was. He wanted nothing more than to hold him and try to soothe him. He knew though, his right to do that had gone the moment he had denounced his King before the Council. Unable to look Aragorn in the eye, he concentrated on bandaging his wounds, noting how he recoiled, when he momentarily lifted him to wind the bandages round his body. When Aragorn started to shiver again, he tucked the warm pelt around him.

"I have almost finished,"he said,tying the bandages in place. He suddenly froze when he came to the brand mark on Aragorn's shoulder.

"What should I put on that?" he asked,hesitantly I am so sorry!"

"Calendula or comfrey," Aragorn murmured conscious of little else but his pain wracked body. He wanted to ask Faramir why he had carried out such a cruel act .However,t the pain made even conversation an ordeal,especially when the answers might cause even more anguish if they were even forthcoming.

Faramir did as he was bidden ,unsure whether or not to be relieved or sorry that discussion of his actions would have to wait. He slipped a clean shirt over Aragorn's head and after giving him more rose hip tea and poppy juice, drew the covers tightly round his King, for despite the blazing fire, Aragorn still shivered. He gently smoothed back his hair ,which was drenched with sweat from the ordeal. "Rest now and get well!" he said gently. He wanted so much to place a kiss on his brow ,but the way his lord flinched away from his touch made such a gesture almost unthinkable.

Painful though it was,he would have to accept that his only relationship with Aragorn now was that of subject and King. No longer could he look on him as father,friend,mentor and brother and he had known that in his heart since the day he had agreed to Arwen's plan. His only task now was to restore the King to his wife and to his throne.

He sat and waited until Aragorn fell into an uneasy sleep, then called for Elbeth to come back in.He told her to sit with Aragorn while he prepared the rabbit for their meal and washed Aragorn's and his clothing.

With Elbeth's help, he prepared a stew for them both and some broth for Aragorn. His niece was surprisingly quiet and careful not to wake the sick man, whom Faramir allowed to sleep until they had eaten their meal.

"Won't Strider be hungry ?" Elbeth asked, as she scraped her plate clean.

"You may awaken the King and see," he replied, wishing she would address him a little more respectfully.

He watched the child call her friend and noted how Aragorn's eyes were wide with fear when he opened them. When he saw Elbeth,though,he visibly relaxed and smiled.

"Are you hungry,Strider?" Elbeth asked."We've some very nice stew. I helped Uncle Faramir make it and it really tastes good!"

Aragorn lifted his head then looked at his bandaged hands that lay limply on the coverlet and shook his head.

"I will feed you,Strider. Don't worry!" Elbeth said cheerfully.

Faramir fetched the bowl and spoon. He helped the King to sit up, propping him with pillows. Elbeth then sat beside him and spooned the broth into Aragorn's mouth. He was obviously hungry and devoured it greedily, which gladdened Faramir's aching heart. He was greatly frustrated at his own limitations at helping his friend in comparison to all Aragorn had done to help him in the past.

Elbeth chattered cheerfully all the while she fed her friend,telling him what fun it was camping out with him and Uncle Faramir and did he know that snow was for playing with?

Faramir could not but help smile.

Once Aragorn had settled back to sleep, they dared go outside where Elbeth helped him wash the dishes in the stream. On the way back, through the now almost melted snow; she stopped to pat the horses, which had followed them.

"Can I have a ride?" she asked.

"Do you know how?" Faramir was surprised at the request.

"The charcoal burners would give me a ride on their horse when I lived with grandma," she explained, "Then the Lord of Lamedon said I had to learn to ride as I'm going to be Queen but he only let me ride a pony!" she added scornfully.

"We had better first see if the King needs anything," Faramir cautioned,deciding against going into the reasons why she could not be Queen just now.

Aragorn was still sound asleep after his meal and a further dose of poppy juice, so Faramir dared leave him and grant Elbeth her wish. The child was being very good and deserved a reward after all.

He saddled the placid Zachus and lifted Elbeth on him, wincing at the pain in his back as he did so. Obviously,he had done some damage to himself when lifting Aragorn. He had once done something similar when lifting heavy sacks of grain when supplies had arrived for his men at Hennun Anneth and had been advised by the Healer to rest. Such a luxury was out of the question here.

Elbeth immediately took up the reins and urged the horse to walk. Faramir walked beside them, his arms firmly about her waist.

"Let go Uncle Faramir!" she said sternly," I know how to ride!"

Rather reluctantly he released her and stepped back. Much to his surprise, she guided the bay confidently along the path, urging him to a canter. She laughed happily as the horse smoothly carried her along, her dark hair blowing in the breeze.

It seemed she had inherited Boromir's early prowess on horseback, for Faramir had been slow to become a confident rider, though his skills eventually surpassed those of his elder brother but until he he learned sufficient equestrian skills, he had been the subject of many cruel jibes from his father when he was Elbeth's age.

Faramir had images of her galloping the day away and exhausting poor Zachus, had he not told her it was time to go back inside.

TBC

A/N

**_Either with this chapter or the next,depending on circumstances,this story will be taking a short break.However,please keep looking as I have a little surprise planned !_**

**_  
I wish a joyous and peaceful Christmas to all my readers who celebrate it and a pleasant week to everyone else._**

_A very grateful thank you to you all for your much appreciated comments. I have replied to everyone who logged in._

_I was honoured to learn that many of you found the previous chapter moving as it is hard to achieve that aim when writing._

_My apologies for any errors that you might find, my usual Word processor is not working and I am having to use one I am unfamiliar with._


	37. Come back to me in dreams

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain

**Yet come to me in dreams that I may live  
My very life again though cold in death:  
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give  
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:  
Speak low, lean low,  
As long ago, my love, how long ago. - ****Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–1894**

He was riding across the fields with Faramir, laughing as they raced their horses together. Then, he was in the beautifully decorated Merethrond dancing with Arwen and kissing her tenderly. He then turned to embrace Faramir and lovingly addressed him as his son.

Aragorn awoke with a start. The Merethrond dissolved into the bare walls of a cave and the glow of happiness was replaced by the ever-present pain, He was cold, so very cold, despite the fire and being wedged between Faramir and Elbeth under a heap of blankets and furs.

With a start he realised, his head was pressed against Faramir's. Regaining full consciousness,he immediately tried to move as far away as possible from his treacherous Steward. The dream had been so beautiful and so real that it could almost have been a vision, though the events it showed were almost impossible. He was King again, with his Queen at his side and in perfect harmony with the man who had so cruelly betrayed him.

He had lost count of the time they had been here in this cave. He slept most of the time, his brain numbed by the poppy juice, that Faramir kept giving to him. He had ceased resisting his ministrations, accepting he was too weak to resist whatever Faramir chose to do.

His wounds were slow to close.He knew thatthey needed stitching but his hands were too maimed and Faramir lacked the skill to draw the remaining skin together. At least, he had healed sufficiently to no longer have to undergo the humiliation of being rubbed with the napkin rash cream, though in all other matters he was still as dependant on Faramir as an infant upon its mother.

A single tear trickled down his cheek at the pain, humiliation and betrayal he was experiencing in such sharp contrast to the wonderful dream he had just awakened from.

He glanced at Faramir, who was smiling in his sleep and wondered yet again how could his Steward have treated him thus? Faramir claimed it was all a pretext in order to rescue him. Yet, this was a man, who had always claimed he would not even ensnare an Orc with a falsehood. How could he have been so fooled by him?

Maybe, he had been too eager to find a kindred spirit and nurture him as the son he had yearned for, for so long, knowing that the beautifulson Arwen had given him would take years to reach maturity. There had been such a sweetness and gentleness about the young man, that years of trying to please his harsh father and fighting against Mordor had failed to dim. However, that seemed now to have been replaced by a hardness he had failed to notice before.

To look at Faramir asleep now, heappeared so innocent, that it seemed inconceivable that he had pressed the red-hot brand against his King's defenceless flesh, struck him and insulted him. The throbbing in his maimed shoulder was a constant reminder of his cruellty.

Could the Steward have truly repented of his evil and brought him here with Elbeth to save him, or was it all some elaborate ploy to gain power for himself by keeping them both hostage?

Of one thing, he was certain. Faramir was very clever, which was perhaps one reason his father had mistrusted him, maybe with good reason,or so it seemed now.

Faramir was deserving of the uttermost severity of the law, should he by some miracle regain his throne. Yet, he had sworn an oath never to harm him and he was no oath breaker. If he were honest with himself, though, he knew it was the love, he still bore Faramir, that would prevent him from ever ordering a traitor's death and offer him the mercy of exile instead.

Those of his race, once having given their love, never withdrew it. That made Faramir's treachery all the harder to comprehend. Maybe he should give him the benefit of the doubt, but he had hurt him so very much.

He wanted to sleep again, to escape the pain and return to the bliss of his dreams.

Faramir opened his eyes and blinked. Realising that Aragorn was awake, he immediately sat up and turned towards him.

"Are you in pain, my lord?" he asked solicitously.

A little," Aragorn said listlessly. "I am thirsty."

"I will fetch you a drink and some poppy juice," The Steward scrambled to his feet as he spoke, taking care not to disturb Elbeth. He had had such happy dreams that he had been reluctant to awaken. He had been dancing with Eowyn,his Uncle had praised him and most wonderful of all; Aragorn had embraced him lovingly and called him his son.

"Is it dawn yet?" Aragorn asked.

Faramir went outside to investigate and returned a few moments later shaking his head. "It will be hours yet," he said," It is thick freezing fog outside."

He threw some logs on the fire to counter the bone chilling icy dampness, and then tucked the covers more closely around the King, who regarded him listlessly with dull eyes. He placed a pot of water on the fire to boil and took out some herbs and sprinkled them in a cup.

It seemed to Faramir that some vital spark within Aragorn was missing. He spoke very little and Faramir lacked the skills to know whether this stemmed from the wounds inflicted on his body or the far deeper ones within his soul.

He was anxious now to leave this place as soon as Aragorn was well enough to travel. The snow had melted and he was beginning to fear that they might be discovered. He had no idea though, how he could deal with the six-hour ride with a child and very frail man. Even he did not feel in the best of health, having pulled a muscle in his back with lifting Aragorn.

Aragorn's wounds were healing slowly but cleanly and the frostbite had not proved as bad as they first feared. He had regained some of the use of his toes and his right hand and they no longer needed to be bandaged, although they were still sore.

The left however, was a different matter, for two of the broken fingers had set at an odd angle as had the thumb, which rendered the joints useless.

Faramir made the tea and held the cup to Aragorn's lips. The King reached out to try to hold it himself but it almost slipped from his grasp.

"Easy now, you cannot grip with your left hand yet." Faramir cautioned.

The fingers will have to be set again once I can get to a healer. They had already knitted badly before you came for me." He did not voice his fears of permanently losing the use of his hand. He understood now why Eomer had been so upset a few months before when his arm was injured. A king needed to be strong to lead his people in battle when the need arose. Yet, what manner of king was so easily captured and ended up sheltering in a cave with one of his betrayers and a small child?

"Are there any still loyal to me?" he asked suddenly.

" A few," Faramir replied, " Imrahil of course and his Swan Knights are trustworthy. I only hope he has managed to keep control of the Council. As for the other lords apart from, Lamedon, Lossarnach and Ringlo Vale, I have no idea. They might be waiting to see if Eldarion and Elbeth's marriage took place to see who held the reins of power. The same goes for the army too. Once the Queen gave me hope that you were still alive, she told me to join the rebels. It was the only plan we could think of to save you."

Aragorn was startled out of his lethargy. "You are telling me that _my wife_ told you to join the rebels."

"Yes, sire, it was her idea." Faramir replied.

"I want to know the whole story!" Aragorn demanded.

"You are in pain, Let me mix you some poppy juice so that you can sleep .I will tell you in the morning." Faramir replied, wondering just how he could explain everything now that the moment had come.

"I want to know now." Aragorn insisted, "You drug me to prevent me from learning the truth!"

"No, my lord, I wish only to ease your pain!" the Steward protested. How it hurt that his lord believed not a word he was saying and yet, what else could he expect?

He checked to see that Elbeth was still sleeping, as it was no fit story for a child's ears. He then reluctantly began his story. "When you did not return that night, I was very worried. I feared you had been taken ill. I ordered a through search, but found no trace of you. Then a few days later a body was found in the river dressed in your clothes and bearing your rings. It had been in the water for many days and was bloated and unrecognisable. Tarostar told me it had been beaten about the head and face. Everyone thought you had been attacked by robbers with no idea of your identity and thrown in the Anduin. I was broken hearted."

"Were you really?"Aragorn said bitterly," I thought when they took my clothes that they planned something like this."

" I believed the corpse to be yours and informed the Council." Faramir struggled to hide the pain the biting words caused him. "However, I refused to hold the funeral until the fever epidemic had abated as I felt that would be your wish."

"You were right in that at least." Aragorn said dryly.

"The next day, I went to tell the Queen the dreadful news and take your clothes and rings for her to identify .On the way, I had a suspicion we were being followed so I changed clothes with my Captain and saw to it that he rode a horse very like Iavas. He and the others acted as a decoy, while I made my way to Emyn Arnen. They were never seen again." He bowed his head for a moment lamenting the loss of life before continuing. "When I told the Queen the news of your death, she refused to believe me and accused me of having no love for you. She said if you truly were dead, the breaking of the Thought Bond would be tearing both of our souls apart. I thought her distraught with grief and showed her your clothing. It only served to strengthen her conviction that you still lived, as the drawers the corpse was wearing bore no sign of the White Tree embroidered on the leg!"

"That was my plan, as I hoped Arwen would notice," said Aragorn, " How I fought to keep my drawers on! They eventually tore in the struggle, which would have looked suspicious if they had clothed the corpse with them."

" I fear, I still did not believe her," Faramir continued, "Eowyn and I retired to bed and eventually fell asleep. Eowyn had offered to stay with the Queen but she insisted she wished to be alone. Then both the Queen and myself awoke in the night after having suffered identical nightmares that you were calling to us for help. I finally realised that you were alive. The Queen suggested that I pretend to be hostile to you," he continued, "It is foreign to my nature to lie, but I knew I had to do if I were ever to find you. It took some time for them to trust me. I eventually received an invitation to a House Party at the Lord of Lamedon's Country Villa and hoped you might be hidden somewhere in the area. I knew of this cave from my days in the army and with the help of the healers, brought supplies here in advance. I smuggled you out by convincing them that you had the Fever and drugging you to make you appear dead. I am so very sorry that I hurt you so much. It was unforgivable and I will pay the price when we return to Minas Tirith!" Faramir paused, unable to bring himself to reveal that not only had he struck and branded the King, but also poisoned him with spider venom.

"If you had no wish to turn traitor and torturer, why did you not use the full might of the army to find me or seek my whereabouts in the palantir?"Aragorn demanded.

"I had to come alone as I feared they would move you before I could reach you if I brought troops." Faramir replied." I did try to use the palantir but I could not bend it to my will."

" I would have taught you to use it but you always refused," Aragorn said sternly.

"I did wrong in not learning to master it I have injured my King and most cruely!" Faramir replied, unable to meet the grey eyes." I deserve to be severely punished!"

"Your punishment will have to be decided later," Aragorn replied. Surely, those were genuine tears of contrition in Faramir's eyes, but how could he be certain? He wanted so much for him to be telling the truth.

"I will get mix your poppy juice now," Faramir said, groaning at the twinge in his back when he tried to get to his feet.

"You are hurt! Let me see!" Despite everything, Aragorn could not ignore the younger man's obvious pain.

"It is nothing, just a pulled muscle!" Faramir felt annoyed with himself for further burdening a sick man by not concealing his pain better.

"Nevertheless, let me see, please!" Even in his weakened condition, the Healer in Aragorn would not be denied.

Faramir sighed and sat down again with his back turned to Aragorn. He pulled up his tunic and shirt .It was at least a relief that something had roused Aragorn a little from his dreadful lethargy.

"It is just there!" he said, pointing to the sore place.

He felt Aragorn's fingers prodding his back gently but instead of the familiar warmth, his touch was like ice.

TBC

_A/N_

_Welcome back to my readers. I hope you have all now returned now from an enjoyable holiday season._

_The dream that both Aragorn and Faramir experience is told fully in my story "At the Rising of the Moon also on this site."_


	38. Too much suspicion

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**An indiscriminate distrust of human nature is the worst consequence of a miserable condition, whether brought about by innocence or guilt. And though want of suspicion more than want of sense, sometimes leads a man into harm; yet too much suspicion is as bad as too little sense.**

**Herman Melville **

_**With thanks to Laerien for her suggestion about the beards for this chapter**_

Faramir was amazed that Aragorn should desire to ease him after all that had happened. He blinked hard, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, amazement at the simple goodness of the man and horror that he had obviously lost all the power that his touch had previously held.

Aragorn could still use the Elven massage technique, which somewhat eased Faramir's pain yet, his fingers remained cold and totally devoid of the healing warmth and energy, they had processed in the past. The Steward wondered if it were revulsion towards the one who had betrayed him that had caused it, but knew in his heart that were Eldarion here in his place, Aragorn's hands would still lack their customary warmth

He felt the fingers cease moving across his back. Faramir finally turned to face the King. He sat crumpled with his head in his hands; tears silently pouring down his cheeks.

"I have lost my healing power!" he wept, "What am I now? For should not the King have the hands of a healer?"

Despite strongly suspecting that Aragorn found his touch loathsome, Faramir impulsively placed his arms around the thin shoulders. "You suffered a dreadful ordeal," he soothed, "It will take time for you to heal. It took me many months, remember, and I was only imprisoned for a few hours!"

"I do not even know if I still have a throne!" Aragorn lamented, "Maybe, that is why my power has left me? They might have usurped the throne by now and then what will I have then to offer my wife and son? I was only permitted to marry Arwen on condition that I wore the crown of Gondor!"

"You will regain your throne, sire," Faramir said firmly "And even if the very worse befell, though I am certain it will not, you still have Arnor where your subjects are loyal. You have Arwen and your son who care for you, far more than for the throne of Gondor. And you have my love and loyalty and Eowyn's too." Faramir immediately bit his lip, realising his ill chosen words had shattered the fragile rapport between them as Aragorn stiffened.

"Love? Loyalty?" Aragorn asked bitterly, freeing himself from Faramir's grasp. "You would have done better to kill me, if you had any shreds of decency left, rather than have me reduced to this!"

Long years of bitter experience with Denethor, had taught Faramir to hide his feelings beneath an expressionless mask. Concealing his hurt he said, " I beg you not to think like that, my lord. Remember your Queen and your son! They are waiting for your return.

Aragorn said nothing, seemingly exhausted from his outburst.

"The rebels cannot win!" Faramir continued, seeking to distract him. "We have the major advantage now, for if they stage a coup, whom do they have to replace you with without Elbeth? While she was with them, she was the most dangerous person in Gondor, but now she is with us, she is simply my niece!"

"She is dangerous enough as that," Aragorn said morosely, though he smiled weakly in the child's direction.

"I shall leave you to decide whether or not, she should be acknowledged as such," Faramir said meekly. "I would accept her as part of my family, since she is all that remains to me of my brother, but I leave it you to decide her fate." He felt no need to plead for her life, knowing Aragorn as he did .He shuddered to recall how he had contemplated killing the helpless little girl.

"Strange that one so innocent could pose such a threat." Aragorn mused.

"She will not endanger you again!" Faramir vowed, "Now rest, you are weary." He eased Aragorn down onto his pillows and held a cup to his lips containing poppy juice.

"I have grown fond of the child!" the King murmured sleepily, already exhausted by his brief exertions.

Faramir tucked the blankets round him and sat for a while sadly regarding his King. It broke his heart to see him like this, so frail and listless, and to know too, that he had forever forfeited his friendship and esteem.

Their conversation about Elbeth only served to remind him that the rebels would be looking for her. She was too valuable for them to let go easily. They could not linger here much longer .He would have to see if Aragorn could mount Roheryn tomorrow and then hopefully leave the day after, even if they had to ride double, with him holding the King on the horse. Elbeth was confident enough to ride alone if need be, which was one less worry to be concerned with.

After a while, he built up the fire, then settled himself beside the now snoring Aragorn and fell asleep.

The next day, Faramir awoke with a new resolve. He realised his dreams of the night before had unsettled him and now determined to concentrate solely on restoring his lord to his rightful place. The memories of having known his love and esteem, from henceforth would have to sustain him. He would count himself blessed having known the love his father had denied him. Before knowing Aragorn, he had not even had the comfort of pleasant dreams of fatherly tenderness.

He knew too, that he had no need to fear a traitor's death from Aragorn, as his King would never break his oath to protect him. He accepted that the blissful life that he had known was over now. He would lose his position, his home and his reputation, if they escaped the rebels' clutches.

However, he still had Eowyn and his daughter and they could build a new life somewhere. Hardest of all though, would be the loss of Aragorn's friendship, yet, he had always known that would be the price to pay.

He realised that he had held out a sliver of hope that once he had explained his actions to Aragorn, the King might forgive him, but that was impossible. Now he was without hope for himself, he could concentrate on solely on his mission of restoring Aragorn to his wife and throne. He doubted Arwen for have anything to say in his favour, as her instructions had not included torturing her beloved husband. He accepted his fate now and was resigned.

Aragorn seemed in a better mood too, when he awoke and seemed to enjoy Elbeth's chatter while she helped him with his breakfast. There was a wistful look in his eye through, when she recounted a dream about a puppy and a kitten playing together, as if he recalled some happy dream of his own.

Faramir sent Elbeth outside to play while he bathed Aragorn, tended his wounds and helped him dress, this time in breeches and tunic over the loose shirt and drawers he had worn until now.

The Steward had feared they would chafe the wounds but Aragorn was now so thin, they hung on him loosely. He explained to the King what he planned to do and to his great relief, Aragorn made no protest.

The King's beard had started to grow back where Hanna had so cruelly tugged out handfuls, but it looked decidedly odd and would immediately catch the eye of anyone out looking for them.

Faramir cleared his throat nervously. "I think I had better shave you, sire, before we leave," he said.

"What?" Aragorn looked aghast at the suggestion.

"If any of the rebels' retainers are out looking for you, they will have been told of your appearance," Faramir explained. "The patches of varying length are very noticeable."

"I have worn a beard since I came to manhood!" Aragorn protested. "To shave it would be a cruel humiliation!"

"I know," Faramir replied sadly, " You are far too conspicuous as you are, though. I am sorry. We can discuss it again tomorrow."

Too weak to argue, Aragorn said nothing though the misery in eyes spoke louder than any protest.

Faramir then went outside and saddled and bridled Roheryn and led him to the mouth of the cave, He then called Elbeth and asked her to hold Roheryn's head and wait with him.

He went and fetched the King, who was still almost too weak to walk, but by leaning heavily on Faramir, he reached the horse and while Elbeth held the reins, he lifted Aragorn into the saddle. Roheryn whinnied joyfully, delighted to be reunited with his master.

Aragorn tried riding along the path and seemed happy to be seated on his beloved stallion once more and out in the open air, but his weakness soon made him sway alarmingly in the saddle.

Trying to ignore the pain in his back, Faramir lifted him down again, hardly able to endure the look of despair in the usually vibrant grey eyes.

"No matter!" he said, trying to sound cheerful, "We can both ride one horse and the other can take Elbeth and what baggage we need."

"I am a burden to you," Aragorn said sadly, "You should take Elbeth and leave me here. You can return later with some of Imrahil's men to fetch me if you truly mean to take me to my wife and child."

"I will never leave you nor betray you again!" Faramir said firmly, "We are all leaving here together!"

"I should like to see them again so very much," Aragorn said wistfully, grimacing with pain as he spoke and gripping Faramir's arm tightly to prevent himself from falling. How he hoped it was true and that Faramir were truly taking him to Arwen and it were not merely some cruel trick!

The Steward hated to drive his ailing King thus, but with every day the risk of discovery increased. Then perceiving Aragorn's despairing mood, he felt that he needed to be reunited with Arwen as soon as possible. He very much doubted his aptitude for offering any comfort at all to the King after all the pain he had caused him. Eowyn could ease his bodily hurts too, with her healing skills.

Faramir spent much of the rest of the day debating what they should take with him. After discussing it with Aragorn, they decided it was best they should ride Roheryn together and let Zachus carry Elbeth and the baggage, which had to be limited to the bare essentials.

They would need to take bedrolls and blankets, as the pace would have to be slow as to neither overtax Aragorn or the horses and they would have to rest overnight. Faramir was not exactly sure of their final destination, though he assumed it was near where Elestelle was born. Since the War, the area around Osgiliath had quickly been repopulated as people flocked out of the City to return to their country roots.

The next morning, Faramir rose early. He had reached a decision, which although painful to his pride he hoped would help Aragorn.

Before he could change his mind, he took his razor, and putting it to his own face, shaved off his beard, the proud symbol of his manhood. He remembered Boromir telling him that he had become a man, when it first sprouted, and the new respect in the eyes of his comrades. Then, more recently, there were those nights he had lain in Eowyn's arms and she had giggled delightedly when it tickled her soft flesh. He felt as if he were removing part of himself.

He then woke Aragorn and Elbeth.

Aragorn looked at him in astonishment. "I thought it would serve as a disguise if I shaved," he said quietly.

"You look all bare, Uncle Faramir!" Elbeth giggled.

"I will soon look the same, "Aragorn told her solemnly. "Will you help your Uncle Faramir shave me?" He did not understand why his Steward should shave as the excuse was a feeble one, yet suspicious of him though he was, the gesture touched him and resigned him to the loss of his own beard. Faramir looked so very young minus his beard!

"Yes, please!" Elbeth was already draping a towel around Aragorn's shoulders.

The Steward picked up the razor and felt Aragorn stiffen, the instant he touched him with it. If being shaved were not humiliation enough, but having to have it done by someone he mistrusted must be an ordeal for him, the not knowing, whether by accident or design, if the blade would cut into his already painful flesh.

Faramir's hand trembled slightly but somehow he managed not to cut his King. It broke his heart to see him so reluctant, yet submitting so docilely to the blade. At last, it was done, and Faramir stood back to survey his handiwork.

The bruises on Aragorn's face looked all the more livid now. Yet, more than that, a shiver ran down Faramir's spine at how like his father Aragorn now looked.

"You look funny without your beard, Strider!" Elbeth said critically, "Almost as funny as Uncle Faramir."

"Our beards will soon grow back," was all that Faramir could think to say. He sent Elbeth out to play, while he washed Aragorn, tended his wounds and dressed him.

"Why did you do that?" Aragorn asked when she was gone. "I do not believe that you wish to disguise yourself."

"I hoped this way you would feel less uncomfortable." Faramir said simply.

Puzzled, Aragorn shook his head slightly as the now familiar but still painfully embarrassing routine proceeded of being undressed, covered with a blanket and then bathed under it.

Today was different, though, as it was the last time they would be within the shelter of the cave.

TBC

_A/N_

_A very big thank you for al your much appreciated reviews. I have replied to everyone I can. Updates will now be when my Muse obliges, as this story seems to be moving further and further from my original draft, but I do know how it will end! The characters seem to have taken on a life of their own!_


	39. They have prepared a net for my steps

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain

**They have prepared a net for my steps; **

******my soul is bowed down:**

**they have digged a pit before me,**

**into the midst whereof they are fallen _themselves._ ****- Psalm 57.6. The Bible.**

Faramir went outside. No trace of the snow now remained but it was still cold .A thick mist rose off the river and shrouded the surrounding hills. It was not the most pleasant weather for travelling but the mist would at least provide some cover.

He saddled the horses and carefully placed their baggage on Zachus, hoping he had not left behind anything they would need.

"I know we face a perilous journey today," Aragorn said looking Faramir straight in the eye. "The Valar alone know what lies at the ending!"

Faramir returned his gaze steadily. "I would shed my last drop of blood to save you, my Lord King!" He unbuckled his dagger and handed it to him. "Take this, we should each carry our own weapon and you will feel safer with it!" he advised.

"Thank you!" Aragorn was surprised at this unexpected gesture and felt oddly comforted by it. Whatever his true intentions, Faramir had at least brought him out from that dark cellar and let him see the sky again. He had tended him caringly too, in different circumstances he would have said lovingly, albeit somewhat ineptly.

Fleetingly, he wondered if he should try to share thoughts with him and discover his true motivations. The hurt, though, was too deep and he feared what he might discover, helpless as he was and powerless to prevent himself being led into a trap. He would know soon enough if he truly were being taken to rejoin Arwen and Eldarion. The alternative; that Faramir had brought him here to revive him so that he could be tortured further, was too horrible to contemplate.

Aragorn fastened the weapon around his waist with his one good hand and Faramir helped him to his feet. The Steward hesitated, yearning to embrace his Lord knowing that the journey was a perilous one and they may not live to see another sunrise. He yearned for Aragorn's forgiveness and his reassurance that he had tried his best but now was not the time.

Slowly, they made their way out to where Elbeth was waiting impatiently with the horses. His face felt cold and alarmingly naked where his beard had been but a short time ago.

Carefully, Faramir lifted the King on to Roheryn's broad back and then mounted behind him, enveloping Aragorn in his cloak to keep him warm

Despite his weakness and apprehension, Aragorn's spirits lifted at the prospect of spending the day in the fresh air. After so long enduring the confines of first a cellar and later a cave, it was bliss to be outside, with the grass under Roheryn's hooves and the open sky above his head.

All too soon though, his wounds began to pain him and though he was determined not to complain and show his weakness, Faramir, though, was all too aware of his discomfort from the way he tensed and his ragged breathing.

It was unfortunate that one of his most painful wounds was on his waist, just where Faramir had to hold him to prevent him from sliding off Roheryn's back. He would have been more comfortable sitting behind his Steward, but dared not suggest it, since he doubted his ability to remain alert and not slide to the ground. Nor, would he take poppy juice for the pain, as that would have made him drowsy and he needed to keep his wits about him should Faramir lead him into a trap.

Faramir was insisting they stop to rest for a few minutes every hour or so and progress through the forest was painfully slow. Elbeth was succeeding well in riding Zachus and kept up a slow but steady pace beside the two men.

"Where are we?" she demanded after they had spent the morning picking their way through the forest.

"I think we are about to cross the Lord of Lossarnach's lands" Faramir told her, "Half of this forest belongs to him and the other half to the Lord of Ringlo Vale."

"Oh!" said Elbeth, as this information meant nothing to her, "How long are we going to be in this forest I'm bored!"

"Not very long now," Faramir soothed, though inwardly he dreaded reaching the open countryside more, this would be the most dangerous part of their journey.

"I'm hungry!" Elbeth complained, "And I'm tired of sitting on this horse!"

Sighing, Faramir halted yet again to give her some dried fruit to eat out of their meagre supplies.

She ate it shifting restlessly from one foot to another.

"Go and stretch your legs!" Faramir told her, "I do not want you to wander out of side of the horses though and be very quiet!"

She ran into the trees with the speed of an arrow released by a bowstring, her feet churning up the dead leaves that carpeted the forest floor

Aragorn suddenly slumped over Roheryn's neck in obvious agony and Faramir lifted him down, wincing at the pain in his back as he did so. He sat the King on a fallen tree trunk where Aragorn slumped dejectedly, his features pale and drawn.

"Is the pain very bad, sire?" Faramir asked, his eyes full or concern.

Aragorn nodded feebly, lacking even the strength to lift his head. "Just here," he whispered, gesturing towards his waist.

Faramir hurriedly fetched the saddlebag containing the salves and bandages and prepared to investigate. It was far too cold to remove the sick man's clothing here.

He pushed Aragorn's tunic and shirt to see what was paining him. To his dismay, the bandage round his waist was soaked with blood where the still raw wound had chafed. It looked excruciatingly painful. He knew it was madness to travel with Aragorn in such a precarious condition, but what other choice did he have? Faramir groaned inwardly. "Can you hold up your shirt while I bandage it? I will see if I can pad it better," he said.

"The butcher knew all too well that removing the skin would cause a painful and slow healing wound," Aragorn sighed, shuddering at the memory. "It needs stitching."

Faramir brought the water skin and offered him a drink before using some to clean the wound. Aragorn flinched and gritted his teeth as Faramir washed away the blood and applied a liberal amount of salve to the raw flesh.

"Eowyn should be able to help you," he said, thinking longingly of his wife and only hoping her skills were sufficient.

"I thought we were going to find Arwen." Aragorn said suspiciously wondering if Faramir and Eowyn together were planning to rule using Elbeth as a figurehead.

"Eowyn is with your Queen," Faramir explained patiently, "I sent them and the babies into hiding together. Eowyn is very loyal to you and your lady, sire."

Aragorn nodded tiredly, hoping she had developed a more gentle touch during the past year if she were indeed to tend his wounds.

The Steward pressed a thick wad of bandage to the wound and secured it with strips wound round him. There was even a different scent surrounding Aragorn now. Before his captivity, a wholesome aroma of refreshing herbs had always surrounded him. Now he smelt of sweat and blood and pungent salves.

"Now do you think you can get back on Roheryn?" Faramir asked, "I want to be clear of the rebels' lands before nightfall."

Aragorn nodded and Faramir helped him get shakily to his feet and they joined Elbeth who was waiting impatiently by the horses.

"You said _I _was to be quick but I've been waiting here for ages and ages!" she complained.

"Well I hope you have stretched your legs properly," Faramir replied, ignoring her complaints.

"I've walked on them, not stretched them!" Elbeth retorted, "Why do grown ups not say what they mean?"

"How I wish I could answer you that question," Aragorn said, an edge of bitterness in his voice, which scared Elbeth into silence.

Faramir lifted her back on to Zachus and they urged the horses forward again.

The King now seemed more comfortable and they were able to continue their journey until they reached the edge of the forest where they stopped to rest the horses.

Several acres of rolling pastureland, which belonged to the Lord of Lossarnach, lay ahead. This would most likely be the most dangerous part of the journey as there was no shelter from anyone trying to find them.

Faramir could only hope that the tenant farmers he had met were not from this area, as he feared recognition by one of Fosco and Devorin's dinner guests.

He pulled his hood low over his and draped the folds of his cloak to more closely conceal Aragorn. He hoped Elbeth was now unrecognisable as the bejewelled little princess she had been. Her clothes were now dirty and torn and her face streaked with mud.

They were riding past a row of cottages, when a man came out and approached them, much to their dismay.

Faramir's hand reached for his sword hilt.

"Who are you?" the man asked, "You're trespassing on the Lord of Lossarnach's land!"

"I am a soldier from Minas Tirith who came to spend his leave a few leagues from here, visiting my widowed father and my little daughter," he replied, gesturing towards Aragorn and Elbeth and thanking the Valar, they would all easily pass as close kin. "I found my poor father stricken with fever and am taking him to the healers in the city! I am sorry. I did not realise we were trespassing!"

The man stepped back in alarm. "Be off with you then!" he snarled, "Don't you go and be bringing the fever here!"

Faramir urged Roheryn to a canter, calling to Elbeth to do the same.

"You have become well skilled at deception, claiming to be my son!" Aragorn said when they slowed down to a trot again.

"I used to boast that I would not even deceive an Orc with a falsehood," Faramir replied sadly, "But it seems I have become a master of lies. As I smuggled you out of Devorin's Lodge by claiming you had the Fever, it seemed as good a story as any! "

"Not all lies are evil, you learn after eighty seven years spent in hiding!" Aragorn replied sadly," You were an idealist, so I thought .I had hoped to create a world in which ideals could flourish! But are there any left to share such a dream?"

"You _will _create that world once you are restored to your rightful place!" Faramir said fiercely as they approached a bend in the path.

Hoof beats could be heard approaching. Faramir looked frantically for some cover, but the nearest copse was at least a quarter of a mile away, across an open field, over which the mist hung but sparsely. There was no way they could reach it in time to conceal themselves.

A well-dressed rider on a fine grey horse loomed out of the mist and headed straight towards them. To their horror, it was the Lord of Lossarnach, accompanied by at least a dozen of his men.

Aragorn gave a gasp of sheer anguish. It was as he had feared. Faramir had led him into a trap. He reached for his dagger, sorely tempted to first cut his Steward's treacherous throat with it before turning it on himself.

He knew though, he could never destroy the one he had loved as his own son. Better by far to end his own torment. He tried to firmly grasp the weapon only to find he lacked sufficient strength. Dejectedly, he slumped forward.

Behind him, Faramir swiftly reached for his sword. The other hand concealed under his cloak, held his dagger, which he held against Aragorn's heart.

They were hopelessly outnumbered and their disguise woefully inadequate. He would not let them be taken alive though. He would kill first Aragorn and then himself.

TBC

_A very big thank you for all your much appreciated reviews. I have replied to everyone who has logged in. A warm welcome to new readers and a big thank you to old ones for your loyalty. Circumstances have made this chapter a little later than I intended it to be._


	40. Deliver us from evil

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

_With special thanks to Raksha,Laerien and Julia for their help with this chapter._

**Deliver us from evil - The Bible; Mathew 6.**

Lord Lossarnach reined in his horse and looked directly at them.

Faramir stiffened desperately seeking some way out other than that offered by the point of his dagger. The thought flashed through his mind that he had become his father in seeking to take his own life and Aragorn's. Yet, what other choice did he have? Against two or three men, he could fight, but against twenty, the odds were hopeless; hampered as he was by his injured back and the presence of a sick man and a young child. If he were alone, he would risk throwing the dagger and killing Fontos, but he dared not relinquish the only means he had of saving Aragorn from further torment. Fontos' men appeared a bunch of ruffians and an appeal to either their loyalty to Gondor, her King or her Steward was most unlikely to work

"Are these the ones you seek?" one of the men asked the Lord of Lossarnach.

Aragorn suddenly lifted his head and looked Fontos directly in the eye.

Fontos sat transfixed, as the King's gaze seemed to pierce his very soul. He suddenly remembered the night when he saw him not as the King but as a father fiercely protective of his newborn child.

He hesitated; thinking of the riches Devorin had promised would be his if he joined in their conspiracy. He had seemed so easy at first, the plan to marry Elbeth to Eldarion when Fosco had discovered her existence. He had only wanted to see the House of Hurin restored to its former glory.

As a close friend of Boromir's, he had shared his dream that it was time for the Stewards to take the throne and emerge from the shadow of a King whose return after almost a thousand years seemed no more likely that pigs growing wings and taking flight.

Then Aragorn had come from the North and claimed the throne. He had indeed been victorious in battle, a battle that had claimed the life of Fontos' father. Yet, if Lord Boromir had not died in this so-called King's company and in somewhat mysterious circumstances, or had Lord Faramir not been gravely wounded, would they have not led the West to victory instead?

He had been willing at first to give the King a chance, and had almost begun to like him, despite his father in law's constant murmuring against him, much as it had hurt to see Lord Faramir relegated to the role of the King's vassal. However, it had been more than he could bear when Elessar had sent his Steward to prison, where he had been most brutally beaten, all on account of his friend, Eomer of Rohan, a King who would not even have a land to rule had not Faramir's ancestor, Cirion ceded it to him!

Then when Faramir had recovered, his attacker had simply been hung rather than suffering the weight of the law against such treason. The King had offered no word of apology to his Steward, but instead had made him kneel to kiss his hands in fealty when he had returned to public life! On that day, Fontos had told his father in law that he would support his plan to put Lord Boromir's daughter on the throne of Gondor.

He had never thought, though, that it would lead to the King being chained up like a dog and tortured so cruelly. He had been haunted by the sound of his agonised screams when the butcher had used his knife to peel away his skin and reveal raw flesh beneath. Then there had been the times when they punched and kicked and taunted him. He had made not a sound, other than to say yet again, he would never sign away the future of his son.

It amazed him that Elessar was still alive after such cruelty. He had found himself admiring the man's courage and dignity. He had been glad of the excuse of a winter chill, which he claimed he feared was the dreaded fever. He had become desperate to avoid further witnessing the torture of a man whose boots he was not even fit to unlace.

Devorin's fury had known no limits when Faramir had failed to return. Elbeth was then found to be missing and the next morning Fosco and his servant had been found murdered in the forest. He found he mourned him not at all. He had been summoned, together withthe other surviving conspirators, and ordered to find both King and Steward. Devorin had outlined in gruesome detail what he planned to do with them once they were caught.

Fontos knew his life would be forfeit for his part in the conspiracy, should Elessar return to power. However, he already suspected Devorin would kill him once he had served his purpose. Better by far to die in the service of a good and honourable man and for the good of Gondor as his father had done.

The King's eyes once so vibrant were dulled with pain and suffering. His beard had been shaved to reveal a haggard face covered in bruises. Yet, this broken man still had an air of wisdom and compassion that reminded him he was looking at the greatest that now lived.

"Aren't they the ones we're looking for? Two men and a small girl?" his retainer repeated.

Fontos looked away from Aragorn and directly at his servant. "What these ragamuffins?" he said coldly, "You are a fool, man, we seek the King and the Steward! " He turned again to Aragorn and Faramir and addressed them directly. "Be off with you, you are trespassing on my land!"

Hardly able to believe their luck, and almost weeping from relief, Faramir urged Roheryn to a gallop. He could feel Aragorn shaking beneath his protecting arm as he replaced the dagger in its sheath.

"All is well, we are safe." he soothed.

"So you would have killed me!" Aragorn said bitterly, wondering exactly what complicated plot Faramir had devised. Obviously, he and Fontos were in league or they would not have let them go. Yet, why had he reached for his sword if he were allied with the man? Moreover, it would have been an act of supreme mercy on Faramir's part to kill him rather than allow him to be recaptured.

This man was a stranger, though, and not the Faramir he had known and loved for his gentleness and honesty. This Faramir could lie without hesitation and kill his liege lord in cold blood!

"I would not have let them take you and put you to further torment," Faramir said quietly. "I sought to kill you, not from hate, but from the love that I bear you."

"If only I could believe you!" Aragorn sighed. "Why would Fontos just let us go if you were not in league with him?"

"I believe the Valar heard my prayer and softened his heart," Faramir replied. "I can think of no other reason."

"Maybe the torture sickened him," Aragorn mused, desperately wanting to believe this explanation "His heart was never in it. I believe he only joined the rebels because his father in law urged him too. He is not evil but weak."

The conversation was cut short by a shout from Elbeth who was lagging further and further behind as she vainly tried to coax Zachus to keep up with Roheryn, but with her feet too short to reach the stirrups, had little means of controlling the horse other than by telling him to "Gee up" and tug at the reins.

"You left me behind!" she accused once Roheryn caught up with her and slowed to a canter. "What did those men want?"

" I am sorry, Elbeth," he apologised, "They just wanted to tell us that we were on their land and we should leave."

"I'm tired. When can I get off the horse?" she complained.

"Very soon now," Faramir promised. "You are a very brave girl to ride Zachus all by yourself!"

Elbeth visibly glowed at the praise and made no further complaint, determined to prove just how well she could control the enormous horse.

They soon crossed the borders of the Lord of Lossarnach's estate and passed through another stretch of woodland.

It was already growing dark. As soon as Faramir could find a suitable secluded clearing near to a stream, they stopped to rest for the night.

Aragorn was obviously exhausted and in pain and could hardly stumble along, even leaning on Faramir's arm, after being lifted down from Roheryn. The Steward managed to get his King to a log, where he sat him down and left him with Elbeth, while he collected the healing supplies and filled a pot with water from the stream and put it on to boil.

Despite the dangers of discovery, Faramir felt compelled to light a good fire to provide some warmth for Aragorn and Elbeth. Heat was essential both for a sick man and a young child.

Aragorn swayed alarmingly as soon as Faramir's back was turned causing Elbeth,who was playing nearby,to run to his side.

"Are you alright, Strider?" she asked, her childish voice full of anxiety.

"I will be well soon," he whispered, "Sit here beside me, please?"

Elbeth immediately settled beside her friend and put her small arms around him.

When Faramir returned he found the King leaning against the child for support. He shuddered inwardly, knowing all too well that he had embarked on this journey without allowing Aragorn sufficient time to recover.

"Elbeth, will you gather some wood for the fire?" he asked, "I need to tend the King's wounds."

"Let her stay!" Aragorn begged, his features pinched and grey with fatigue. Much as he hated to involve a child, even the thought of holding up his shirt and tunic while Faramir bathed, salved and re-bandaged his wounds, was more than he was capable of at present. He fumbled to pull his shirt loose from his breeches and then asked Elbeth to hold his clothing up.

Faramir frowned when he removed the bandages as the wound, which had bled earlier, now looked angry and inflamed after a day of being repeatedly chafed. He could do nothing but apply a generous amount of salve and re-bandage it .He hoped fervently that they would reach Eowyn the next day.

He prepared a simple meal of porridge, which was at least warm and filling. Elbeth coaxed Aragorn to eat as she spoon-fed it to him and it seemed to revive the King a little, though his eyes betrayed his humiliation at being unable to do even the simplest thing for himself. Faramir would have to lead him into the trees to answer nature's call, help him back to the campsite, bathe his face and hands and settle him down for the night. For a man accustomed to living off the land in complete self-sufficiency, such helplessness was very hard to bear, while forced dependence on a man he could not trust made it far worse.

After throwing more wood on the fire, they prepared for the night. Faramir took out some blankets he had brought and they huddled together for warmth under them. Elbeth fell asleep immediately, worn out by the day's exertions.

"There was a time before you betrayed me, when I had hoped to take you camping with me!" Aragorn murmured wistfully, "I thought how nice it would be, just the two of us, shoulder to shoulder by the camp fire under the stars reliving our days as rangers! I never thought it would end like this!"

"I am sure you will enjoy the stars again, and enjoy taking Eldarion camping once he is older" Faramir replied thinking sadly how much he would have enjoyed a camping trip with Aragorn. His father would never have countenanced such a thing and he and Boromir seldom had had leave at the same time.

"Will I" Aragorn said gloomily.

"Gondor will again hail its rightful King!" Faramir assured him, wrapping his own cloak around the shivering body of his King and wishing he had more warmth to give him. In the past, he had always marvelled just how warm Aragorn was, even in mid winter, but now he always seemed to be cold.

In her sleep, Elbeth nestled closer to her friend, which seemed to soothe Aragorn somewhat. His breathing grew deeper indicating he had fallen asleep. Faramir tried to stay awake to keep watch but exhaustion soon overcame him.

He slept uneasily, always with one ear open but nothing came near to disturb their slumbers.

Faramir awoke at dawn, though as yet the cold grey light provided only a dim illumination. The air was cold and damp and he ached to the bone and moved stiffly from the pain in his back.

What would he not give for a hot bath and a soft bed to lie on? He realised he had become soft over the past few years, for many times during his life as a soldier he had slept in far worse conditions than these! He sincerely hoped that they would reach Arwen and Eowyn today. That is if he could discover their whereabouts.

TBC

A/N

_A very big thank you to all my reviewers. Each and every comment is greatly appreciated as I love to know what you think of the story, whether you are enjoying it or not or simply who is reading! I have replied to everyone who was logged in._

_Fontos is remembering events in Chapter 24 of "Burden of Guilt"._


	41. Til we've seen this journey through

**With special thanks to Raksha for her help with this chapter.**

Faramir stirred the embers and coaxed the fire back to life with more wood. He then fetched some water from the stream and put it on to boil to make tea and porridge.

Aragorn moaned softly and cried out in his sleep. Faramir decided to wake him. He called him softly and gently shook him.

The troubled grey eyes flickered open. "No, no!" Aragorn cried.

Faramir could see that his lord was visibly shaking and distressed.

"You were dreaming," he said gently, "Come have some breakfast. I want us to leave early in the hope we can find Arwen today!"

"I had dark dreams!" Aragorn mumbled, blinking as if to try to shut out the horror. "I had been led into a trap so that they could capture Arwen and Eldarion! They put us all to torment! I am so cold!"

"Easy now, come nearer the fire!" Faramir soothed, putting his arm round him and rubbing his back. He wished fervently that he had learned some of Aragorn's Elvish skills. "We are still free and have left the rebels' lands behind."

"The _known_ rebels." Aragorn corrected, stiffening visibly. He sipped the tea that Faramir held to his lips.

"Who would recognise us now?" Faramir said, trying to reassure him while Elbeth finally stirred and burrowed out of her nest of blankets. "We must look like vagabonds!

"I'm hungry!" Elbeth announced, yawning, "What's a vagabond?"

"A person who wanders around because they have no home" Faramir explained.

"Like us now, because we've run away?" asked Elbeth.

Faramir shook his head. "No. We are not vagabonds, since we do have a home."

"Where?" Elbeth demanded.

Faramir was momentarily lost for words. He wanted to say his home was in Minas Tirith or Ithilien. But the location of his home, old or new or both, was likely to change in the future. Even if Aragorn succeeded in regaining his throne, he was unlikely to want a suspected traitor to live anywhere near him. "You will have to wait and see," he said somewhat lamely, "Now eat your porridge before it goes cold!"

"I don't like porridge! I want bread and jam!" Elbeth complained.

"Well porridge is all there is, so you had better eat it!" Faramir said firmly.

Elbeth scowled and started to very slowly stir her porridge, delaying the evil moment of having to actually eat it. Suddenly she started to giggle.

"What is so funny?" Faramir asked.

"Your hair and Strider's is covered in dead leaves!" she giggled.

"If you eat quickly, you can pluck the leaves from Strider's hair!" Faramir promised as he managed to swallow a few bites from the unappetising bowl of porridge between the spoonfuls he fed to Aragorn. The King sat morosely throughout the proceedings, saying not a word.

Elbeth glared sulkily, reminding Faramir of his brother when he was young. However, she finished her breakfast without further complaint.

Faramir then attended to Aragorn's wounds, which still looked raw and angry. To make things worse; two more of the patches had become inflamed, one on his chest and the other on his arm, where the movement of the horse had chafed the bandages against the injured flesh.

The King needed to rest quietly, wearing very loose, comfortable clothing. Unfortunately, they could not afford to rest until they found Arwen and Eowyn's safe haven. Faramir prayed that they could reach the place before nightfall, as he feared that Aragorn was developing a slight fever and was too frail to survive another night out in the cold and damp. Aragorn also needed the comfort of refuge with those he loved and trusted. Faramir felt he would hardly be included in either category, though he would gladly have laid down his life to save the man he loved so dearly.

Faramir gently bathed the King's hurts with boiled water and applied liberal amounts of salve.

"That looks sore!" Elbeth commented, as Faramir had needed to ask her to hold up Aragorn's shirt and tunic again.

"It is," the King said shortly. His temper was frayed by the indignity of an ignorant little girl's regard of his wounded body as some sort of interesting curiosity and knowing, yet again, that worse humiliation was in store. Faramir would soon help him with those routines that were once normal morning habits and which had now become a shared misery, since he could not perform them in solitude.

Had his Steward not betrayed him, he could have easily endured such embarrassments, as a but few months ago, even bathing together had been no great trial apart from the reservations of natural modesty. However, it was very hard to need help with the most basic needs from the hands of one who had so recently tortured him. He was the King who had once held armies at his command, yet now could not even command his own body to walk a few steps or hold a spoon!

Then when they reached their destination, Eowyn would have to see his wounds. He shuddered at the thought. He could only hope her skills had improved during the past year, given what he needed her to do to his injured hand, if he we to regain the use of it. Then whose side would she be on? She was the sister of Eomer, his most loyal friend and ally, but married to his treacherous Steward. Would she help him or use tending his wounds as a pretext for more torture? That was if they were even journeying to where Eowyn now was, rather than into some trap!

"How far do we need to travel today?" he asked Faramir to try to take his mind off his current plight and gain some clue to his fate. "You know this area far better than I do!" He gasped as the ointment stung his raw flesh and bit back a cry of pain, not either wanting Elbeth or Faramir to see his weakness.

" I think we are about ten miles from Minas Tirith now," Faramir replied, as he placed a thick wad of cloth to pad Aragorn's waist. "We need to avoid the city in case the rebels control it, and make our way towards Osgiliath as our destination is in that direction. I hope we will reach it before dark. I am eager to see my wife again!"

"As am I, if you are truly taking me to her," Aragorn replied.

"Sire, I give you my word of honour that I left Arwen and your son in Damrod's care a few miles from here!" Faramir replied in a tone of weary resignation, trying hard to conceal his hurt.

"Do you know the meaning of that word?" Aragorn asked bitterly.

"May my life be forfeit if I am speaking falsely!" Faramir replied.

"What does 'honour' mean?" asked Elbeth curiously, wondering why both her uncle and Strider seemed so upset.

"It is very hard to explain," said Faramir, "Honour is what I held most dear and still do, yet I have none! What I was trying to explain to Strider, is that we should find the Queen today."

Elbeth frowned, more bewildered than ever. "But they said _I_ was the Queen," she said at last.

"Because they had no honour and told you lies," Faramir said fiercely," Lady Arwen is the Queen of Gondor."

Elbeth tried hard to digest this information.

"You would have to be grown up and marry a king to be queen," he said hastily to forestall a further torrent of questions. "Now can you do something very important and wash the dishes in the stream?" He tied the final knot in the bandages as he spoke and nodded to Elbeth to let go of Aragorn's clothing. The King was shivering more than ever now and Faramir wrapped a blanket round him as well as his cloak,

Delighted to be given another important task, Elbeth scampered away happily.

"Is that more comfortable?" he asked Aragorn.

"Yes, thank you." For an instant, there was something of the old affection in Aragorn's eyes as he looked at him.

Faramir carefully cleared away all traces of their camp before saddling the horses and preparing to leave. His back was now so painful that it took three attempts to get Aragorn up on to Roheryn. Both men were sweating from the exertion by the time they were safely mounted.

Meanwhile, Elbeth had managed to climb on Zachus herself, using a fallen tree trunk to mount with. She sat there impatiently fingering the reins and waiting for the two men to be ready.

Aragorn's pain intensified throughout the morning, but he was determined to conceal it from Faramir as best he could. He was resigned now that he was powerless to resist whatever his Steward had planned for him. He could only wait for the truth or otherwise of Faramir's words to be revealed.

Faramir sensed his lord's discomfort, but forced himself to ignore it. They could ill afford to slow or stop under the clear sky. They were easily visible if anyone else were searching for them.

They trotted through the seemingly endless miles of countryside, making good progress, though Faramir's back now throbbed with every step that Roheryn took.

"I'm bored!" said Elbeth after they had been riding for an hour or so.

"I used to play a game with my brother when we travelled," Faramir told her, "We would see who could count the most cows in the fields."

"That sounds fun!" she replied, "Will Strider play with me?"

Aragorn nodded wearily, thinking it might help him to keep his eyes open.

They stopped for a brief rest in a small copse of trees at what Faramir guessed was midday, though the clouds hid the sun from their view. To his relief, Aragorn's wounds were not bleeding. When he lifted Aragorn up on the horse once more, he hoped it would be for the last time without assistance. The pain in his back had worsened.

"Are we almost there?" Elbeth asked after another hour or so in the saddle. "I've counted three hundred and five cows and I'm getting bored!"

"It should not be long now," Faramir assured her, hoping he was right, as Aragorn kept threatening to slide from the saddle and it troubled him that Roheryn was forced to carry so much extra weight. "Why not see if you can count to four hundred cows? You are very clever to know such big numbers!"

Elbeth glowed at the praise. "How many have you seen, Strider?" she enquired.

"Two hundred and one, so I am certain that you will win!" he answered, picking a number at random, having long since grown too weary to even attempt a semblance of playing.

The countryside was now very familiar to the Steward. He used to patrol this area with his men. It had changed a lot since the war, though, as settlements had sprung up all over the place, populating what had before been desolate countryside over which Sauron's minions raged a ceaseless war against the defenders of Minas Tirith.

They passed through several villages, attracting attention from the children but ignored by the adults who no doubt were accustomed to homeless wanderers. Despite Aragorn's best efforts, there was still a good deal of hardship in Gondor.

In every village they passed, Faramir asked the same question. "I am looking for an old comrade of mine by the name of Damrod. Do you know where he dwells?"

Aragorn was heartened by the question, as it seemed that Faramir might indeed be telling the truth after all.

By late afternoon, he was beginning to fear they were going in the wrong direction when a woman said, "Damrod? Him that was in the Ithilien Rangers?"

"Yes," Faramir replied, "Do you know where I might find him?"

"He and his wife live in a cottage in the next village but you should come to his sister's home before that. He often calls on her at the farm, which is about a mile down the road. Her husband died soon after the war and it's hard for a woman alone with small children so he …"

Wondering if the garrulous woman was another of Ioreth's cousins, as it seemed she could easily talk all day, Faramir politely thanked her and rode on, his heart lifting at the thought of seeing Eowyn again.

He gently shook Aragorn who was half asleep. "Wake up, my lord!" he said, "We are almost there. You will soon see your wife and son!"

"Arwen, Eldarion!" Aragorn murmured, hoping fervently that his Steward spoke the truth.

He urged the exhausted Roheryn to a canter down the lane. They rounded a bend and there it was, a small single storied but neatly maintained farmhouse standing apart from the village.

The sun finally broke through the clouds to end the day with a spectacular crimson sunset that lifted their weary spirits.

There was a herb garden at the front of the house, the fresh spring growth already visible and a line of washing, mainly comprising babies' napkins blew in the breeze.

"I think we are here!" Faramir told his companions, as he slid painfully from the horse.

Just then, a woman emerged from the house.

TBC

A/N

_A very big thank you to all my much appreciated reviewers. I have replied to everyone who was logged in. I am thrilled to see the return of old friends and welcome new readers too._

_I hope this chapter will leave you eager to see what happens next too !_


	42. At last,at last !

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain

**Geliebter!  
Hab' ich dich wieder?  
Darf ich dich fassen?  
Kann ich mir trauen?  
Endlich! Endlich!  
An meiner Brust!  
Fühl' ich dich wirklich?  
Ist es kein Trug?  
Ist es kein Traum?  
**

**( Beloved !**

**Do I have you again?**

**May I grasp you?**

**Can I believe myself?  
At last, at last !**

**Against my breast,**

**Can I really feel you?  
Is it no delusion?  
Is it no dream?)**

**Wagner – Tristan und Isolde Act Two**

**With special thanks to Raksha for her help with this chapter.**

**For Julia.**

Faramir looked at the dark haired beauty in bewilderment for a fleeting moment. Then his eyes lit up. "Eowyn! I didn't recognise you for a moment; you look so different! It is so good to see you! How have you fared? Is Elestelle well?" Faramir exclaimed, almost crying for joy at the sight of his wife.

"I hardly recognised you either!" Eowyn said, shading her eyes to look up at him. "Fear not, our daughter thrives. But you - Faramir, you have done it! You've rescued the King!" With that, she quickly bridged the short distance between them.

Faramir nodded, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions; relief, joy at their reunion, concern for Aragorn and the knowledge that their troubles were far from over. "I have saved Elbeth from their clutches too, " he said, gesturing towards the small girl fidgeting nervously on the giant horse's back. "Can you help me get the King inside?" he asked, awkwardly dismounting from his horse and fervently embracing his wife.

"I could help Strider," Elbeth volunteered but the adults were too preoccupied to heed her

Aragorn had said nothing so far. He eyed Eowyn apprehensively.

"What ails him?" Eowyn asked.

"It is a long story," Faramir replied, " Suffice to say that he is in dire need of your healing skills. I will tell you all once we are inside. Can you help me get him off the horse? "

Eowyn helped her husband lift the King down then realising that he was hardly able to stand, called, "Arwen, come quickly!"

Aragorn's sad and tired eyes lit up when his Queen came running out of the house.

"Arwen, Vanimelda!" Aragorn broke free of Faramir and Eowyn's supporting arms and tried to approach his wife.

His legs gave way and he would have fallen to the ground had Faramir and Arwen not both dived to catch him at the same moment.

"Estel, beloved!" she cried, clasping her arms around him, while Faramir and Eowyn supported him from behind.

"Beloved you are hurt, what have they done to you?" Arwen's sweet voice was full of concern as she beheld her husband's haggard features and felt his thin body trembling in her arms.

"They put me to torment," Aragorn whispered, tears running down his gaunt cheeks. "Eldarion; is he safe?"

"The monsters! How dare they?" Arwen exclaimed in horror, tenderly trying to wipe away the tears, despite being partially blinded with her own. "You are safe now. They shall not hurt you again!" she said fiercely.

"Eldarion?" Aragorn persisted anxiously.

"He is well and growing more like you every day!" his wife reassured him.

"We need to get the King inside," said Faramir. "Eowyn, could you see to Elbeth and the horses? "

Together, they half carried Aragorn inside and laid him on the bed.

"I will leave you and your lady alone now," said Faramir, dipping his head slightly.

"You _were_ telling the truth then." Aragorn turned his tear stained face towards his Steward.

"I was indeed, my lord, " Faramir replied sombrely.

"Thank you for bringing me to her," Aragorn whispered.

Again inclining his head, Faramir silently left the room.

Alone at last with her husband, Arwen drew him close, enfolding him in a loving embrace. Still weeping, he buried his head against her breast, revelling in her nearness. She held him tighter, unknowingly aggravating his wounds and causing him to visibly flinch.

"Your wounds! I am so sorry," she exclaimed, "Where are they? Let me tend them!"

"Please, I am so weary. Let me rest for now!" Aragorn begged, "They are not bleeding as Faramir tended them earlier."

"Very well, " Arwen agreed reluctantly. "I will just make you more comfortable now." Thus saying, she took off his cloak, unlaced his boots, and settled him as best she could, propping several pillows behind him.

"Why does Faramir address you now with such formality?" she enquired troubled by the tone he used to speak of his Steward.

"He betrayed me," Aragorn said bleakly.

"Only because I told him to pretend to join the rebels in order to save you. A few lies were but a small price to pay for your life." Arwen explained. "You cannot hold that against him."

"It was far worse than that." Aragorn responded.

"All that matters is that he has restored you to me!" Arwen kissed her husband tenderly, caressing his face with her slender hands and sensing his frailty, weariness and despair, which caused her to weep anew.

"Please do not weep, beloved!" he whispered, raising his head sufficiently to kiss her. "I should like to see our son if it would not disturb him?"

Reluctantly tearing her gaze away from his beloved face, now so skeletal and drawn, the lack of beard making him look even more vulnerable, Arwen went to fetch Eldarion from his cradle in the living room .She settled down again beside her husband with the baby in her arms.

Aragorn's face lit up at the sight of his son. The baby regarded his father curiously for a few moments, uncertain how to react to him and then deciding he liked the newcomer welcomed him with a beaming smile.

" Ad da da!" he gurgled.

Aragorn now wept uncontrollably. During those weeks alone in the darkness tormented by pain, hunger and thirst, this was the moment he had dreamed of and despaired of ever experiencing.

Arwen settled beside him, embracing him with her free arm and supporting his head against her breast.

" I feared I would never see you both again!" he sobbed.

"I never gave up hope and have kept this for you," Arwen replied, her own voice trembling with emotion. She slid the Elven pledge band from her own finger and returned it to Aragorn's, albeit with some difficulty as his hand was still reddened and swollen.

"My love is now all I have to offer you, vanimelda, when I promised your father you should have the crown, which I gave you together with that ring!" Aragorn lamented.

"What is a crown compared to the man I love?" Arwen reassured him, kissing him again as she spoke. "I would still love you if we had to live as beggars in the wilderness!" She noticed then how dry his lips were.

"I will fetch you some refreshment, Estel!" she said, rising to her feet.

Aragorn slumped back against the pillows, his meagre reserves of strength exhausted now the first excitement of the reunion was over.

Arwen returned a protesting Eldarion to his cradle and went to fetch a drink for her husband. She resolutely washed away her tears then moistened a cloth with which to wipe Aragorn's face.

She attempted to hand him the cup, but his hands were shaking too much to take it. Instead, Arwen held it to his parched lips while he drank.

"I am sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed at his weakness.

"You would do the same for me," she said calmly, though inwardly his frail condition alarmed her considerably. "Was Faramir tortured too?" she asked, aiming to distract him. "He looks to be in pain."

"He hurt his back lifting me," Aragorn replied, starting to wonder if she were correct about the Steward's loyalty. Maybe even, Faramir had carried out his cruel deeds under duress? He did not know now what to think about his Steward. He had kept his word, and brought him to Arwen, and cared for him most devotedly. Yet, the same man had hit him, taunted him and branded him while he lay chained and helpless. If it had all been a ruse, why had he not explained during the moments they had been alone together in that dreadful place?

"Rest now, beloved," Arwen soothed, placing the empty cup on the bedside table, tucking the covers around her husband and surreptitiously examining him for signs of fever. He did appear to be slightly fevered, though at the moment exhaustion was what troubled him the most. Almost at once, he fell asleep.

Arwen settled down beside him again, tenderly stroking his hair and murmuring Elvish endearments. She fervently wished that her father had agreed to teach her more of his healing skills instead of desiring to shield her from the ugliness of illness and injury. If only she could somehow fetch her brothers here to tend Aragorn! She knew however that was just wishful thinking and Eowyn's skills combined with her own would have to suffice. Most importantly, her faith had not been in vain; he was still alive and again at her side, this extraordinary man whom she loved so dearly. Tenderly she kissed him, wanting to feel his skin beneath her lips and reassure herself that it was not just a dream that he had returned.

_TBC_

_A very big thank you for all your much-appreciated comments which have brought my total to over 900! I have replied to everyone who was logged in._

_Apologies for the shortness of this chapter but I thought you might like a quicker update and it seemed the most appropriate place to break off._


	43. Cleanliness is next to godliness

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Cleanliness is indeed next to godliness.— ****John Wesley**** (quoted): _Journal, Feb. 12, 1772._ **

According to Dr. A. S. Bettelheim, rabbi, this is found in the Hebrew fathers

Returning outside, Faramir found Eowyn unsaddling Roheryn. He pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her passionately. He clutched her tightly, as if fearing she were put a dream that would melt away if he let go.

After a few moments of savouring his nearness, she reluctantly pulled away. "We had better see to the horses," she said, "The poor creatures look exhausted!"

"I had to ride double with Aragorn," Faramir explained, "He is much better than he was but very frail and I fear for him. Once you see what those brutes have done to him…"

"Did they hurt you as well?" Eowyn asked anxiously.

"No, at least not in body." Faramir replied.

Eowyn drew him close and kissed him again.

"What about me?" Elbeth interrupted impatiently, "I want to get down! What is it about grown ups that they always want to kiss each other? I shan't when _I'm_ grown up!"

"I am sorry, Elbeth, I was just so happy to see my lady again." Faramir said contritely, lifting her down from Zachus' back, grimacing with pain as he did so. "Do you remember your Aunt Eowyn?"

"Your hair was like gold when I met you before!" Elbeth remarked after studying Eowyn carefully for a few moments.

"I needed a disguise to stop the bad men who hurt the King finding me," Eowyn explained, "So I dyed it to make me look like a woman of Gondor." She expertly removed Zachus' saddle as she spoke.

"I liked it better before!" Elbeth observed, "Why can't I have golden hair?"

"Because your parents both had dark hair and gave it to you," Faramir explained. He had become accustomed by now to her questions. Exchanging a look with Eowyn, they mutually wondered if Elestelle would be as curious once she could talk.

"Would you like some supper?" Eowyn asked the little girl.

"Can I have bread and jam?" Elbeth replied.

"Indeed you can! Go inside now and I will fetch you some water to wash your hands with before we eat."

"Why must I wash? Uncle Faramir didn't make me!" Elbeth complained.

"Ladies and gentlemen always wash before meals," Eowyn said sternly.

"You are in a house now and not the woods, so you must do what your Aunt Eowyn tells you to," Faramir said in response to the pleading look Elbeth cast in his direction.

Elbeth pouted but went inside without further comment.

"You _are_ hurt. I can see it!" Eowyn exclaimed once she and Faramir were alone in the stables.

"Aragorn says it is just a pulled muscle in my back," Faramir told her, as he took the bridle off Roheryn. "But,Eowyn, it is so sad, he has lost all his healing power and his hands are like ice! He tried to ease my back but could do nothing. I fear they have broken him!"

Eowyn's furious expression suggested, that were Aragorn's tormentors before her at this moment, their days would be numbered, though she merely remarked, "Time and rest are great healers," while rubbing Roheryn down vigorously.

"Are we safe here?" Faramir asked anxiously, "What has happened since I saw you last?"

"Damrod brought us here to his sister's home the day after you left," Eowyn replied, "Bereth has been very kind and even moved into the barn to give us more privacy. She has sent her children to stay with Damrod and comes every day to help us with the heavy work. Damrod visits when he has leave. It seems safe enough and no one else has been near as us we are very isolated. I dyed my hair to avoid attracting attention just in case anyone was looking for us. Damrod told the people in the village that we were the wives of two of his company, waiting for our men folk to return who had been wounded in a border skirmish against the Harad."

"That man is a treasure!" Faramir exclaimed, " Has he brought any news from the City?"

"He told us that so far, Imrahil was managing to control the Council but they were impatient. Rumour has it that some want to find Eldarion and crown him, while others want to return to the rule of the Stewards. Since you disappeared, no one has known what to do. While the fever raged, no one was very interested in politics, but now it is abating, Damrod tells me that the people are growing restless."

"We can do nothing until Aragorn regains his strength," Faramir sighed.

"And _that_, is what we are going to concentrate on, and restoring you to full health as well!" Eowyn said firmly, leading him indoors now that they had finished tending the horses.

They found Elbeth playing with the farm cat and her kittens by the stove; or rather, the mother cat mewing indignantly as Elbeth cuddled a tiny ginger kitten.

"Give him back to his mummy!" Eowyn demanded as she poured some water from a jug into a bowl, "Now come and wash your hands as I told you too. After you have eaten, you are having a bath!"

"Uncle Faramir didn't make me have baths!" Elbeth complained as she washed her grubby fingers.

"Come and see my little girl, Elbeth!" Faramir said, hastily changing the subject, "Where is she, Eowyn? I'm longing to see her!"

Eowyn smiled and led the way into the living room where Elestelle and Eldarion were now lying side by side in their cradles. Eldarion was banging his rattle on the side of the crib, while Elestelle was somehow managing to sleep peacefully through the racket.

"How she has grown!" Faramir exclaimed, "She is so adorable, just like her mother!" He bent over the cradle, grimacing at the pain in his back as he did.

Elbeth eyed the infant critically before pronouncing, "She is quite pretty! Who is the other baby?"

"That is Prince Eldarion!" Faramir told her.

Elbeth wrinkled her nose. "I'm not marrying him!" she pronounced, "He is far too noisy!"

"Indeed you are not!" Faramir laughed as he tenderly stroked his daughter's downy head. "I am sure he has no wish to get married either. He is only a baby!"

"Can I play with the kittens again?" Elbeth asked, already bored with the babies.

"They want to have their supper too now. You can help me set the table," Eowyn told her. "Faramir, you stay with the babies awhile and sit down and rest your back."

Thus saying, she returned to the kitchen taking Elbeth with her, where she finished preparing a simple but tasty and nourishing meal for them.

She then went in search of Aragorn and Arwen and discovered the Queen anxiously watching over her sleeping husband.

"Supper is ready!" Eowyn told her friend, her eyes noting Aragorn's pale and haggard appearance even in sleep. "How is he? "

"Not well. I fear what they have done to him," Arwen said sadly.

"Perhaps we should examine him now?" Eowyn suggested, moving to pull aside the covers.

"He is exhausted. I think rest would help him the most at present." Arwen replied. "He does not appear to be bleeding."

"It would be better to tend him in the daylight," Eowyn agreed, feeling Aragorn's pulse. "Come then, and have something to eat!"

"I do not like to leave him alone." Arwen protested.

"You cannot miss meals with a baby to feed nor would Aragorn want you to!" Eowyn told her sternly, "We are only in the next room. I expect he will sleep for hours."

Sighing, Arwen rose to her feet and followed Eowyn, leaving the door ajar so that her keen Elven hearing could catch any sound from her husband.

Faramir knew he needed to tell Arwen and his wife everything that had happened but was loath to do so in Elbeth's presence. Also, feeling guilty at having neglected his niece, he thought it a good idea to encourage her to tell the ladies about how she had helped Aragorn.

Elbeth was only too willing to oblige and enjoyed being the centre of attention while she told them how she had found her friend, Strider, alone in the cold dark cellar, hungry, thirsty and in pain, and how every night she had brought him food and water.

"The Valar will surely bless you for your kindness to Estel!" Arwen exclaimed after listening with horror to the little girl's story.

"And she was a great help when we hid in a cave in the forest until the King was able to travel." Faramir added.

Elbeth beamed as she devoured another slice of bread and jam, even eating the crusts, which showed just how hungry she was.

Shortly afterwards, Eldarion started to cry and was swiftly followed by Elestelle. The two women rose from the table simultaneously.

"Faramir, will you sit with Aragorn, then Arwen can help me give Elbeth a bath after the babies have been fed? " she asked.

Faramir nodded and rose to his feet.

"I don't need a bath!" Elbeth protested fiercely, "Tell them that I didn't need one for ages now, Uncle Faramir!"

However, Faramir had already left the room.

He made his way to where Aragorn was sleeping and sat beside him on the bed. A single candle illuminated the room, casting a warm glow over the King's sleeping features.

He did at least look more peaceful now, but he seemed to have aged by many years and his gaunt features were etched with his suffering of the past weeks.

Faramir gently took his uninjured hand, which lay limp on the coverlet. To his dismay, it still felt dreadfully cold. He knew it was irrational, but part of him had hoped, that once reunited with Arwen, the warmth and vitality would return to him. Now it seemed that only time might heal him.

Not for the first time, Faramir wondered what it was about those who were evil, which made them want to destroy all that was good. All those, who truly knew Aragorn, loved him and came to see how goodness and nobility shone from him in every word and deed.

He had tried so hard to make Gondor a better place, working all day and sometimes half the night as well, to rebuild after the War, see that the poor and vulnerable were provided for, create just laws and restore Gondor to her past glories. Yet, his reward had been to be chained up like a mad dog, tortured, beaten and starved.

A considerable commotion from the kitchen disturbed his reverie. Obviously, Elbeth was having her promised bath .He was forced to smile as squeals of protest were gradually replaced by splashes and giggles. His niece was a character; but what less could he expect from Boromir's daughter?

He feared the noise would awaken Aragorn but the King only sighed in his sleep.

Eowyn entered and started rummaging round in a cupboard. "Did you bring anything with you for the child to wear or Aragorn for that matter?" she enquired.

"We only have the clothes we are wearing and some clean underwear," Faramir informed her, getting stiffly to his feet to stand beside her.

"It smells like it! You and Aragorn need a bath just as much as the child did!" Eowyn retorted," Aragorn will have to borrow some of your clothes, which fortunately I thought to pack before we left with Damrod! As for Elbeth, we will just have to make do somehow until her clothes are washed and dried!" She snatched up a bundle of assorted garments and made to hurry out again.

Faramir caught his arm around her waist and kissed her tenderly. "It is so good to be with you again!" he sighed.

"You have brought a lot of extra work with you!" she exclaimed with mock severity.

Pressing a kiss to his lips, she hurried out again.

Faramir could now hear cries of " I don't like having my hair brushed!" coming from the kitchen.

Eventually, all went quiet and he was on the verge of drifting off to sleep when Eowyn came in again. Yawning, he sat up and stretched.

" We've settled Elbeth down to sleep by the stove in the kitchen, " she announced, "Come into the living room now so I can take a look at your back."

"It is nothing!" Faramir protested, careful not awaken Aragorn who was now deeply asleep.

"Nonsense!" Eowyn replied briskly, " It is obvious you have been in pain all evening! Come on now!"

Faramir followed her, expecting any moment for Arwen to pass them to come and sit with her husband. Instead, she was sitting on a chair in the living room. Eowyn's healing supplies were spread out on a table next to her

"How is he?" she asked, "You have my eternal gratitude for restoring him to me!"

"Sleeping peacefully," Faramir replied, finding it hard to meet her penetrating gaze after all he had done. He would have to tell her the truth now.

TBC

_A/N_

_A very big thank you to all my readers for your much appreciated reviews. The quantity has inspired me to update earlier! It is lovely to welcome new readers as well as feeling humbled by the loyalty of those who have been faithfully reading for a long time. I have replied to everyone who was logged in._


	44. The good man’s sin

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

**But sad as angels for the good man's sin,  
Weep to record, and blush to give it in. - ****_Thomas Campbell_**** (1777–1844)**

_**With special thanks to Raksha for all her help with this chapter.**_

_**Dedicated to Julia**_

My lady," Faramir began hesitantly, "There is something I must tell you."

Arwen looked at him expectantly.

Faramir cleared his throat and took a deep breath "I have committed most cruel deeds against your husband!" he finally blurted out.

Arwen's clear grey eyes reflected a mixture of shock and disbelief. However, she replied calmly. "How can that be, Faramir? It was you who restored him to me.**  
**  
Eowyn, who had been hovering by the door, came and put a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder.

"I cannot imagine you ever harming Aragorn!" she exclaimed, "You love him too much to harm a single hair on his head!"

Faramir swallowed hard. "I joined with those who were tormenting him! To maintain my traitor's guise, I raised my hand against the King. Later, I was challenged to show my loyalty by an even fouler blow. My lady, I did as Fosco bid me. I branded the King myself with a hot iron.And by that deed, I became what I most abhor, a traitor! Deal with me as you will, my lady for I betrayed and hurt my liege lord!" The words poured from his lips. It was a relief to confess all. Finally, he raised his eyes to look at the Queen.

Arwen's eyes darkened and Faramir could hardly endure her gaze. She rose to her feet and there was something about her demeanour that was truly terrifying. He was forcibly reminded that this was not just his Queen but the daughter and granddaughter of the wisest and most powerful Elves of the Age. She had lived longer than the mightiest oak. He shivered and braced himself for the Queen's unpleasant assault on his mind.

"He did but follow the plan you gave him!Is that not enough to prove his loyalty?" Eowyn interrupted. "I once raised Aragorn's own sword against him and he forgave me. Surely, Faramir can be forgiven for doing what saved both their lives?"

Arwen sat down again, ashamed at her own willingness to violate Faramir's thoughts. "I cannot bear to think of anyone hurting Estel," she whispered. "However, you did restore him to me and for that, I can forgive you your evil deeds. After all, it was I, who told you to join with those who conspired against my husband, though I hardly expected you to torture him!"

Faramir buried his face in his hands. Eowyn's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Nor did I, my lady, I am truly sorry," he murmured.

Arwen looked at him dispassionately for a long moment. Then her gaze softened "I do not believe you are a traitor in your heart," she said gently. "I know that my husband almost died. Estel's survivalbears witness to your loyalty towards him. Now, I must go and see how he fares." With that, she left the room.

"Come now and sit on the couch!" said Eowyn briskly," I want to have a look at your back."

Hardly aware of her words, Faramir merely looked at her sadly.

"It is no good brooding over what is past," she advised," We have to concentrate on restoring Aragorn to health and putting him back on the throne where he rightfully belongs. Brooding will not help, neither will neglecting your own health."

Faramir pulled her close. Only then did he notice that her hair and clothing were damp.

"Your niece is quite a spirited child!" Eowyn said wryly, observing his reaction. "She was very reluctant to have a bath."

Faramir managed a wan smile as he sat down. "I could hear her protests while I was sitting with Aragorn," he told her. "Then she suddenly seemed to change her mind. However did you manage that?"

"It was Arwen with her Elven massage techniques," Eowyn explained. "I shall have to learn more of them, seeing as we are to take the child in, I assume."

"Thank you! I hoped you would agree that we should. However, where our home will be, though, I have no idea," Faramir replied. "Elbeth is a remarkable girl. Aragorn would never have survived without her. They have developed quite a bond."

"Aragorn would never have survived without _you_," Eowyn said emphatically. "Now where does your back hurt?"

"Just there." Faramir pulled up his tunic and shirt a few inches and indicated the painful spot.

"I cannot see like that!" Eowyn protested, "Take your tunic and shirt off so that I can have a proper look!"

"Aragorn let me keep them on," Faramir protested. "What if the Queen returns? Or Elbeth wakes up, or Damrod's sister comes in?"

"Aragorn indulges you overmuch!" Eowyn said with mock severity, "Now take off your shirt and tunic and stop fretting!"

Sighing, Faramir did as he was bidden, grimacing with pain, as he stretched to pull the garments over his head.

"It is just here that it is painful," he told her, gesturing towards where his back hurt the most. "Aragorn thought it was a pulled muscle. I first felt it when I carried him outside the cave we were hiding in, to look at the sky."

He winched as she prodded the sore place all the while hoping that the Queen would remain safely occupied with her husband.

"It seems that you and Aragorn indulge each other's whims!" Eowyn said severely, as she expertly felt along the length of his spine. "It seems to be a severe muscle strain," she pronounced," I have some comfrey salve in the bedroom, which should help. Stay there, while I fetch it."

Rather self consciously, Faramir stretched out on the couch. The warmth from the fire felt comforting against his bare skin and he allowed himself to relax a little. He had succeeded in reuniting the King with his wife, whatever they thought of him. At least, he had not forfeited Eowyn's love as well. She was right; all they could afford to think about now was restoring Aragorn 's health and rightful status.

He was too weary to think any longer and could have fallen asleep in front of the fire, had the door not opened and Eowyn entered. Much to his horror, she was accompanied by the Queen.

Immediately wide-awake, Faramir blushed scarlet and crossed his arms defensively across his chest, trying to cover himself. He sought vainly to snatch up his shirt but it was no longer on the couch beside him.

" I um, thought you were sitting with the King, my lady!" he stammered.

"He is sleeping," Arwen replied.

"I told Arwen about your damaged back muscles as she is a genius at easing backache with Elven massage techniques," Eowyn smiled cheerfully, " So you are very fortunate she has agreed to help you!"

"I do not really think…" Faramir protested. Being without a shirt in front of his Queen was quite unthinkable! "It is not that bad," he said lamely, "There is no need for you to trouble yourself on my account, my lady, I am sure that a good night's rest will cure me!"

"I still think you would benefit from Arwen's skills," Eowyn said firmly, a wicked gleam in her eye. Faramir had a nasty suspicion that she and the Queen had planned this and his wife was rather enjoying herself. Arwen's expression was unreadable.

"I will sit with Aragorn while you treat my stubborn husband!" Eowyn said sweetly. He noticed then that his tunic and shirt were in her hand.

Left alone with the Queen, and now the same colour as a beetroot from sheer embarrassment, Faramir wished the ground would open and swallow him. Gondorian etiquette strictly prohibited a man removing his shirt in front of any woman except his wife. In front of as high ranking a lady, as the Queen, even removing the tunic was considered an outrage, never mind appearing half naked in front of her.

Arwen sat on the couch beside him. "Give me your hands!" she ordered unexpectedly.

Reluctantly, he uncrossed his arms and mutely held out his hands towards her, palms facing upwards.

Grasping them, she studied them in silent reproach, for what must only have been a moment, but to Faramir felt like eternity. He knew that she was thinking that those same hands had tortured her husband. He almost wished that she had probed his thoughts, painful though it would be. At least then, she would have known exactly what had driven him to commit such evil deeds.

Abruptly she released him, apparently having reached a decision. "You can either lie on your front or your side," she said in a detached tone of voice, "I assure you I am skilled in doing this. I often treat your wife's back. I know you are familiar with the benefits of Elven massage, as Estel has often used it on you."

Realising he was trapped, as Eowyn had taken his clothes and he could hardly wander around the farmhouse and risk encountering Elbeth and Damrod's sister as well, the Steward conceded defeat. He dared not insult the Queen, Faramir obediently turned on his side, even though to turn his back towards her, constituted another breach of etiquette. He was amazed at the Elf's audacity combined with that of his wife. Even Dame Ioreth would not have dared do such a thing!

He became aware of cool fingers ghosting over the contours of his back, followed by a gentle pressure, which seemed to be almost remoulding the painful muscle.

"Just relax, I shall not harm you!" Arwen said with a musical laugh, "I do have a husband and I have been doing this for my brothers for almost two thousand years!"

"Is this quite proper, my lady?" Faramir finally found his voice to utter a feeble protest, "What would the King say?"

"He told me that you were in pain, so I promised I would help you. After all, you are needed to lift him until he is sufficiently recovered to walk," Arwen said sweetly, as she continued her ministrations. "And what could there possibly be to object to? Elven massage is one of the most chaste forms of touch there is!"

Faramir wondered if this was some clever ruse of Arwen's to punish him for his misdeeds, before dismissing the notion as unworthy. He realised though, he had no choice but to submit, as he could not be injured while his lord had need of his help.

"Stop wriggling!" Arwen commanded, "However Estel ever managed to treat your hurts in the past I have no idea!"

Faramir had no answer to that. For one thing, her touch was very different, much more impersonal than Aragorn's yet extremely effective. Already the damaged muscle had stopped hurting for the first time since he pulled it.

"Thank you, I feel much better now," Faramir told her, hoping his ordeal was now over.

"I have not finished yet," Arwen replied firmly, her hands expertly moving up to his shoulders. "Uncross your arms, you need to relax for this to work! I fear I do not have healing power in my hands like Estel, but this should ease you."

Faramir had no choice but to obey. He rolled over to lie on his belly to feel a little less exposed.

Despite his embarrassment, Faramir realised that the experience was certainly not unpleasant. Her touch lacked the tenderness and comfort that he experienced when Aragorn had treated him with Elven massage, but she was very, very skilful. He remembered Aragorn telling him once that he was a mere novice at the technique compared to his wife. Yet, he would gladly have exchanged all her expertise for the warmth and skill to be restored to the King's hands and to again be worthy to receive his ministrations.

TBC

A/N

_Many thanks for your much appreciated reviews. Each and every one is valued. I have replied to everyone who was logged in.I hope you willenjoy this chapter too._


	45. A broken spirit—who can bear?

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

**The human spirit will endure sickness; but a broken spirit—who can bear?**

**Bible: Hebrew, Proverbs 18:14.**

**For Julia with grateful thanks**

Faramir's mind started to wander and to his further discomfiture, he was on the point of drifting off to sleep when he was woken by the sound of one of the babies crying.

The door opened and he stiffened in alarm, fearing that Damrod's sister had chosen this inopportune moment to appear. Daring to turn his head, he was relieved to see Eowyn enter with his clothes and a pot of salve.

Arwen's skilled hands ceased their motion to be replaced with the comfortingly familiar touch of his wife as she began to rub salve into his back. Exhausted though he was, he still felt tingles of pleasure at her touch.

"That should ease you," Eowyn said briskly, "Go to bed now for you look almost as exhausted as the King! You had better share with him for tonight. Arwen and I will stay here on the couch with the babies! "

"I thought the Queen would want to stay with Aragorn." Faramir replied, hastily wriggling into his shirt once Eowyn had handed it to him, then turning to face her. He felt bare enough without his beard, never mind his shirt! As both Aragorn and himself had Elven ancestry, their beards would be slow to return to their former glories. He securely laced his tunic before Arwen could decide that his chest needed massaging too !

"You need a proper bed until your back is better, and a good night's sleep not disturbed by crying infants!" Arwen replied, "Also, you are the only one with the strength to lift him if he needs to get up in the night. Call me at once if he wakes and needs me! We will take turns to stay with him tomorrow."

"In any case, neither of you are in any fit state for husbandly duties!" Eowyn added, making him blush again and planting a passionate kiss on his lips, before he could collect himself. After a moment's hesitation, he returned it while Arwen was preoccupied lifting Eldarion from his cradle.

Elestelle then started to wail, adding to the cacophony

Faramir conceded this was hardly a peaceful atmosphere for a sick man to rest in. " Thank you, my lady, my back feels much easier," he said, making his way towards the bedroom. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight and be sure to take off your boots!" Eowyn replied, lifting their daughter to her breast as she spoke.

Faramir crept into the darkened room illuminated by a single candle. Aragorn was still asleep and was snoring softly. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, he kicked off his boots and slid into bed. . He promptly fell into an exhausted slumber.

About an hour later, Arwen came to see how her husband fared. To her dismay, he was crying out restlessly in his sleep.

She could make out strangled cries of "No, no more, I will never sign!" repeated over and over again.

Perching on the edge of the bed, she traced circles on her husband's forehead and murmured soothing words in Elvish until he quietened.

Kissing him tenderly, she then sat for a while watching him. How she yearned to be beside him, but she knew only too well that Faramir needed to regain his strength in order to help her husband. The Steward did not awaken but had curled protectively against Aragorn and his hand reached to his side, as if reaching for a weapon with which to defend his lord if any danger threatened.

She found this gesture oddly unnerving and wondered why. She then remembered how only a few months before, on the day Elestelle was born, they had shared Estel's room. She had gone to see if Aragorn and Faramir were sleeping after the ordeal of that day. Then, it had been her husband, who had been offering a protective fatherly shoulder for Faramir to rest upon. Now it seemed that the roles were reversed. Even though Faramir had betrayed the King, it seemed that he sought to protect him as one might a child, scared of the dark.

It frightened her. She could see that her husband was broken in body, but broken bodies would mend, given time and care. A broken spirit was far harder to repair. She thought sadly of her mother, whose wounded spirit had been unable to find healing until she took ship to Valinor. Estel did not have that choice.

In the other room, Eldarion started to cry, so after pressing a gentle kiss to Aragorn's pale lips, Arwen reluctantly crept away.

Exhausted after the journey of the previous day, Aragorn slept for almost twelve hours, not waking until after the others had eaten breakfast the next day.

When he opened his eyes, Arwen was sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. He looked at her for a few moments in bewilderment until he remembered the events of the day before.

"Vanimelda?" He hardly dared believe that seeing her the day before had not been a dream.

"I am here, Estel." She held a glass of water to his lips and then tenderly took his right hand, which lay limply on the coverlet. "You are safe now, my love."

He clutched at her fingers, but the grip, which had once been so strong, now felt feebler than what even Eldarion's tiny hands were capable of. Tears welled up in his eyes in disgust at his own weakness.

Arwen said nothing, instead cradling him in her arms as gently as she would a newborn babe.

"You are safe now," she repeated, "safe with those who love you."

"What of Faramir?" Aragorn asked fretfully. "He betrayed me! Are you his hostage?"

"No, beloved," Arwen reassured him, "indeed I am not ! We are free to leave here as soon as you are well enough. Eowyn and I came here willingly with Damrod. Faramir is no kidnapper!"

"Maybe he is deceiving you, for he is clever?" Aragorn persisted.

"I sense no deception in him," Arwen said quietly. "Before I sent him to rescue you, much to my shame, I forced my way into his mind and found nothing there but love and loyalty towards you."

"Maybe that was true _then_," Aragorn replied. "But he has changed so much! At first, I believed he would come and that kept my hopes alive. Then he walked into the cellar where I was imprisoned and struck me, spewing forth words of hatred that almost broke my heart! Later he branded me and gladly joined with my tormentors."

"So he confessed," Arwen said looking sadly at her husband's bruised face and the pain she saw all too clearly reflected in his grey eyes.

"I hoped it were a ruse at first to free me, but even when we were alone in that dreadful place, he still abused me. He held a knife to my throat and rubbed an onion in my face when there were none to see! Have you read his thoughts since he joined the conspiracy against me?"

Arwen shook her head. "No, nor will I violate his mind again. He promised he would restore you to me and has done so. That suffices for me. You are Thought Bonded with him, so why not read his thoughts yourself?"

"I dare not!" Aragorn looked away, swallowing hard. "If I were to see some allegiance to the traitors in his heart, I should have to punish him most severely and I could not bring myself to do that. I still love him despite all he has done. He was like a son to me and he did save me!"

"More than once too," Arwen replied, "Several times I feared for your life and his too. Remember, it was at my bidding and for love of you, he became ensnared within that web of treason, and like all webs it sticks to those who touch it for a long time afterwards."

Aragorn sighed and nestled closer to her ignoring the pain that every movement caused him, comforted by her loving presence.

Tenderly she kissed him and gently stroked his face. "I love you Estel!" she whispered.

"I love you too," he replied.

They remained thus for a few moments until he was reluctantly compelled to say, " I need to get out of bed."

"Would you prefer that Eowyn and I should try to lift you and see to your needs or should Faramir to continue to aid you?" Arwen enquired tactfully.

Aragorn hesitated. He was uncomfortable with Faramir in his vicinity but the humiliation of forcing his beautiful, perfect wife to have to wash and dress and change him as he she did their infant son was more than he could bring himself either to ask of her or that he could bear. Then he was aware of the damage lifting him had inflicted on Faramir's back. How could he risk a similar injury befalling his wife? Unpleasant though it was, to have to rely on Faramir for such matters, he had in a way almost become accustomed to it. Then the thought of Eowyn, escorting him to the privy was an embarrassment beyond endurance!

"I think it best that Faramir should aid me," he said at last, "Providing that his back allows him to."

Arwen nodded approvingly." I think you will be more comfortable with him," she said, "His back is much improved this morning. I gave him a through massage last night. The poor man was most embarrassed!"

"That sounds like the Faramir I know" Aragorn said almost wistfully.

"I will send him to you now, " Arwen told him." I came to sit with you while he ate his breakfast, so he should be ready now. Would you like something to eat? Then you must have a bath. We already have water heating. Afterwards Eowyn and I will tend your wounds."

Aragorn nodded resignedly, though inwardly he dreaded her seeing his ravaged flesh. He was certain she would always love him. However, after she had seen what had been done to his body, would she ever be able to look on him as the virile man he had once been?

"Thank you, I will eat a little later, but I need Faramir now!"

Arwen called to the Steward in the next room then tactfully withdrew.

Faramir hastened to his King's side and helped him make his way to the privy.

"Did you rest well, my lord?" Faramir asked anxiously, as he lifted the King.

"I did," Aragorn replied tersely before adding," You seem in less pain today. I hope that my wife was able to ease your back.

"I am grateful for her help but it was extremely embarrassing!" Faramir flushed scarlet at the memory.

"If it is any consolation to you, _your_ wife will need look at my wounds after breakfast so it will be my turn to blush then!" Aragorn said dryly while Faramir sponged his hands and face.

Faramir had the grace to look sympathetic. He was vastly relieved that Aragorn did at least seem well enough to talk after his long rest the night before.

By the time Faramir had helped Aragorn into the kitchen and sat him at the table, Eowyn and a woman who Faramir assumed must be Damrod's sister were filling a tub with water in front of the kitchen fire.

"Bereth, this is my husband and his friend, who have recently returned from fighting in the east to convalesce from their wounds," Eowyn said by way of introduction. It seemed that Damrod had not even told his sister their true identity, which was just as well for her own protection too.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady," Faramir said while Aragorn politely dipped his head in greeting.

"You will have to decide who goes first!" Eowyn told them, "It would take all day to carry and heat enough water for two baths!"

"Where is Elbeth?" Faramir asked.

"She is outside playing with the kittens," Arwen announced, coming into the room with Eldarion

Aragorn struggled to eat the porridge that Eowyn fetched for him but had to abandon the attempt as the spoon felt so dreadfully heavy. Noticing he was struggling, Arwen fed him, while balancing Eldarion on her lap.

Aragorn turned scarlet with the humiliation of it all. It had been bad enough having to be spoon fed in private but in front of a stranger!

Eowyn left for a few the room and returned a few moments later with an armful of clothes and towels. "Here are some clean clothes for you and some towels for Aragorn!" she said handing Faramir a large bundle. "There is little point in Aragorn getting dressed as I need to see his wounds," she explained, "Afterwards he can borrow one of your nightshirts to wear!"

The women finished filing the bath and then turned to leave.

"We will leave you to have your bath now, "said Eowyn, "That is unless you want me to stay and help!"

"No, thank you!" chorused Aragorn and Faramir in unison, both blushing to the roots of their hair.

TBC

A very big thank you to everyone who has taken the trouble to review. You are greatly appreciated and have brought me within striking distance now of 1,000 comments! I have replied to everyone who was logged in.


	46. Nothing is covered up

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known**. : **Bible, Luke 12:2**...

For a moment, both men regarded the tub of steaming water. It was very different to what they were accustomed to in Minas Tirith, where their vast sunken baths would easily accommodate several people. Yet, compared with the basins of water they had used in the cave, it was sheer luxury.

"You should go first, Faramir," Aragorn said as soon as they were alone. He hoped that once Faramir undressed, he might have some answers to his Steward's puzzling behaviour.

"No, you must go first, sire." Faramir insisted.

"But the water will get cold while you are helping me!" Aragorn protested.

"And your wounds could easily become infected from my grime!" Faramir retorted, "As a healer you should know that! So come on, let me help you undress!"

"Very well," Aragorn sighed, resigning himself to his ordeal. " I wish I did not have to ask you to bathe me."

"You will soon be well enough to do it yourself, now that you have Eowyn and your lady to help you," Faramir soothed while he started to unlace Aragorn's tunic. He lifted it over his head, followed by his shirt.

The King was so frail that already he was starting to shiver, despite the warmth from the stove. Faramir wanted to get him in the warm water quickly but found himself struggling with Aragorn's bandages, which seemed to have stuck.

"Leave the bandages to soak off!" Aragorn told him, "That is what I do when bathing a wounded man."

"I know that you did the same for me and more only a few months ago." Faramir replied, removing the last of the King's clothing and tactfully averting his eyes, as he helped him into the bath, a somewhat difficult feat given Aragorn's long limbs. Only by drawing up his knees was he even able to sit down. "I only wish I had some healing powers like yours then I could ease your pain!" Faramir bit his lip as he spoke, all too aware that he had inflicted some of that agony.

"Do you really?" Aragorn would have said more, but concentrated on biting back his cries when the water stung his raw wounds, knowing that if he cried out, Eowyn would most likely come rushing in. He presumed Arwen was occupied with Eldarion as he could hear him crying.

Faramir picked up a washcloth and handed another to Aragorn. "If you are able to, maybe you would like to wash your um, delicate parts while I bathe your back and wash your hair," he said.

Aragorn nodded, grateful for his Steward's tact in trying to preserve some dignity for him. Faramir washed his hair, while the bandages soaked free and then unwound them. Some of the older wounds were revealed as partially healed but the one on his waist started to bleed afresh, as did those on his chest and arms.

"I told you, you should have bathed first!" Aragorn said ruefully regarding the fast reddening hue of the water.

"I have bathed in far worse," Faramir replied, remembering his days in the army when they would draw lots for who would have the first use of the bath, a small tub much like this one. During a lull in the fighting, it would be filled with heated water and concealed behind a makeshift screen. Often when it came to his turn, the water seemed grimier than a muddy puddle!

He gently bathed Aragorn's wounds as best he could, and then rubbed his back and legs more vigorously. Satisfied he had done the best he could, he lifted him out and wrapped him in a thick towel.

"I will get you dried and ready for Eowyn and your lady to tend your wounds, then come back and have my own bath." he said.

"You will be needed, so you had better bathe first," Aragorn insisted, flinching despite Faramir's best efforts not to aggravate his wounds. The white towel was now covered in scarlet blotches.

Faramir sighed inwardly, having hoped for a leisurely soak in private. However,he could hardly complain, his plight being nothing compared to the King's.

"Have no fear, I will stay for as long as you have need of me!" Faramir replied, gripping one of the cold hands. The other, where the fingers had been broken lay limp and useless. At least his wounds now appeared to have almost stopped bleeding. He swathed Aragorn in dry towels, feeling grateful that Eowyn had provided sufficient. He then settled him on a chair nearer the stove.

Turning his back on the King, he began to quickly undress, unaware that he was being scrutinized intently. He had just removed his tunic and shirt when Aragorn's voice startled him.

"Turn around, please, and come here!"

Somewhat alarmed, he hastened to do as he was bidden. "Do you feel unwell, my lord?" he enquired anxiously.

"Lift your arms!" Aragorn ordered, studying him intently with those piercing grey eyes of his.

Never had Faramir expected to feel embarrassed at his lack of scars, but he did so now. He shivered uncomfortably.

"I needed to see if you too had been put to torment, as that would have accounted for your conduct." The King sounded almost disappointed.

" No man raised his hand against me. I acted of my own free will," Faramir said quietly, unable to meet Aragorn's gaze. "I am sorry but I had no other choice."

"No choice but to continue to torment me, even when no others were present?"

"No, my lord." How could he ever explain that had he let the traitor's mask slip even for a moment, he did not know if he would have had the strength to don it again?

"You reminded me very much of your father," Aragorn said cryptically. "I never thought I would see his coldness and resentment in your eyes!"

"I am sorry," Faramir repeated. He was shivering uncontrollably now. He could make no excuses for his conduct, nor would he burden a sick man with his guilt and remorse. All that mattered now was to restore Aragorn to health and his rightful place.

"You had better have your bath," Aragorn said morosely. He stared fixedly at the floor and did not look up again until Faramir had finishedbathing and was almost dressed again.

The Steward was just pulling on his clean shirt when Eowyn's voice called, "How are you getting on?"

"We will be ready soon," he replied, picking up his tunic.

"I will lay out my healing supplies in the bedroom," she called back." Bereth has changed the bed linens and laid towels across the bed. Fortunately, I brought plenty with us."

"Can you keep Elbeth out of the way?" Faramir asked.

"She is still playing with the cats outside. I will tell her to go with Bereth to the barn. But don't be too long, we are waiting!"

"We are coming!" Fastening his tunic as he spoke, Faramir helped Aragorn up from the chair and they slowly made their way into the bedroom.

Arwen was already waiting by the side the bed when they came through the door and helped Faramir lay the King down with a pillow under his head. Her eyes widened at the sight of the blood stained towels covering him.

The Steward then stood back a little while Arwen sat beside her husband and clasped his hand. The fire burned high in the grate, making the room comfortably warm.

"This will only distress you, vanimelda, " Aragorn told her gently, "You are not accustomed to the hurts of mortals and how slowly our wounds heal. It would be best if you stayed with our son."

Arwen shook her head. "Permit to stay with you, Estel, I need to know what ails you and I would help tend your wounds," she replied. "Eldarion and Elestelle are sleeping at present."

"Very well, you may stay for a while. Though I would not have you see me thus!" Aragorn replied with a catch in his voice.

"I am your wife for good or ill!" Arwen said staunchly, stroking his hair back from his face tenderly and suddenly noticing the missing clumps. "What happened to your hair, my love?"

"Hanna found it amusing to tear out clumps of my hair and beard," Aragorn replied bleakly.

"That is why we shaved before we came here," Faramir added."Hanna's cruelty gave the King too distinctive an appearance. He swallowed hard, remembering his first glimpse of him in the cellar.

Just then, Eowyn bustled in laden with bandages.

Faramir noticed the King give an involuntary shudder, though whether at the ordeal ahead or the prospect of the two women scrutinising his wounds, he was not certain.

"Well, let me see what I can do for you!" Eowyn said briskly but not unkindly. She would have pulled aside the towels without further preamble; but noticing Aragorn's look of abject misery, Faramir interrupted.

"Let me arrange the towels!" he volunteered.

She nodded and stood back, busying herself at the bedside table with her back to the King while Faramir wound one of the towels around his hips to preserve his modestyand casting the others to one side, exposing Aragorn's pitifully abused body to the gaze of the women. That this man, once so great and glorious, should be reduced to this, and at the hands of his own subjects, still made his stomach churn. Eowyn and Arwen, seeing his wounds for the first time, gave involuntary gasps of horror.

Arwen gazed in dismay at the harrowing sight of her husband's maimed and wasted frame, taking in everything from the wounds on his wrists and ankles, his swollen hands and feet to the brand on his shoulder and raw wounds on his chest, inner arms and belly. Bruises of various hues covered almost every inch of his body.

"Whatever did they do to you, Estel?" she whispered, her voice cracked with anguish.

"For every time I refused to sign a document authorising the marriage of our son and Elbeth, they took a patch of skin from me," Aragorn told her, his eyes full of sorrow at causing her such pain. Shaking, he fought against the urge to defensively cross his arms to hide his disfigured body, The brand stood out livid against his skin

Faramir stared at the floor unable to meet their eyes.

Aragorn steeled himself to look at his wife; afraid he would see revulsion in her usually loving eyes. She did not see him thus uncovered, even when he was healthy, as he always disrobed in the privacy of his dressing room. In the past, she had constantly reassured him that she was not disappointed by his lack of Elven perfection, yet how could such beauty endure such ugliness as now marred him?

TBC

_A/N_

_A very big thank you all for all your much appreciated reviews and kind comments which have raised my total to an amazing 1,001! Quite an appropriate number as I am as fond of cliffhangers as Scheherazade!_

_I have replied to everyone who was logged in._


	47. By no means a privilege

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Suffering is by no means a privilege, a sign of nobility, a reminder of God. Suffering is a fierce, bestial thing, commonplace, uncalled for, natural as air. It is intangible; no one can grasp it or fight against it; it dwells in time—is the same thing as time; if it comes in fits and starts, that is only so as to leave the sufferer more defenceless during the moments that follow, those long moments when one relives the last bout of torture and waits for the next.**

**Cesare Pavese (1908–1950), Italian poet, novelist, translator. The Burning Brand: Diaries 1935-1950,**

**Warning – This chapter is about tending Aragorn's wounds, and may distress sensitive readers. Please only read if you like such material.**

**For those readers who wanted to see Arwen tend her husband,especially those who have followed my stories since"Shadow and Thought"**

Arwen swallowed hard. She found herself recalling vividly the day when her brothers had brought her mother home, after she had been captured and tortured by Orcs. Her father had not wanted her to present when her wounds were tended, but Celebrian had clung limpet- like to her daughter's hand and Arwen, who was devoted to her mother had been determined to stay by her side throughout the agonising hours when her father had cleaned and stitched the countless wounds that had covered her defenceless body.

Such abuse had been too much for her gentle spirit to endure and she had sailed West the following year. Arwen had wanted to accompany her, but her grandmother had urged her to remain, explaining that her foresight indicated that her granddaughter's destiny lay upon Arda still. For many years, her dearest wish had been to go to Valinor and see her mother again. Then she had met Estel and everything changed. She could only hope that her beloved mother would understand her choice and had written many letters for her father to take when he sailed.

The sight of Aragorn's ravaged flesh brought back so many cruel memories. Then there was neither Lord Elrond to tend her husband's wounds nor sanctuary in the West for him. He, a frail mortal was dependent entirely upon the three of them in this room, one of whom had helped cause his hurts. 'How could men do such things to each other?' she wondered. Orcs were by nature the creatures of darkness, but men, like Elves, were the children of Illuvar.

Anger surged within her. How she wanted to strike Faramir and let him experience some of the pain that her Estel was enduring! Yet, were it not for Faramir, Estel would by now be dead. She forced herself to restrain her emotions and concentrate on her husband.

Arwen looked directly into his eyes. There was no revulsion in her compassionate gaze; only love mixed with sorrow. She pressed a loving kiss on his bruised cheek.

Her eyes then hardened as she exclaimed, "How can they call themselves men, who did this to you, my love? They are foul as Sauron's minions!" She looked at Faramir, who flushed uncomfortably.

Eowyn, quickly mastering her shock at the sight of the King's pitifully abused body, was already probing the wounds. She was surprisingly gentle much to the King's relief .It seemed that motherhood had softened her a great deal. "Can you turn on your side?" she asked Aragorn.

Slowly and painfully, he complied.

"However did you get so many bruises?" she asked appalled, taking in the half healed welts on his back and the vast array of bruises on his shoulders and the backs of his legs. "You can lie on your back again now," she told him; having satisfied herself that there were no open wounds there needing her immediate attention.

"Some were inflicted when they punched me, the rest when I was dragged up and down some steps and across a stone floor," he replied, groaning as he turned over again.

Arwen shuddered. It seemed there was still a great deal she did not know.

"These wounds are serious, but most of them are mending. Faramir has tended you well!" she pronounced, her face grave "The most severe need stitching but the remainder should heal with salves, rest, and good food, which you have obviously sorely lacked. Does comfrey and calendula meet with your approval? I will give you rosehip tea to drink too.You have several cracked ribs but as fara as I can tell there is no damage inside."

Aragorn nodded and managed a weak smile," A good choice, that is what I would use myself!"

"I will stitch them," said Arwen. "I can put my skills with a needle to good use."

Aragorn was amazed at his wife's courage. Experienced healer though he was, he never found it easy to stitch friends' wounds. He shivered again, both with humiliation at being laid out before them thus, and the prospect of his impending ordeal.

"Can you tend his ankles, Eowyn?" asked Arwen, sensing his discomfort. "Then we can at least partially cover him."

Eowyn swiftly applied the salve and bandaged the raw ankles and swollen feet, made worse by having to wear boots so soon after his ordeal. She then rubbed more ointment on the bruises on his legs.

Faramir had fetched a blanket as soon as Arwen made her suggestion. He made to cover the King as soon as Arwen replaced the pot of salve on the bedside table.

"Are you concealing any wounds under that towel?" Eowyn asked the King bluntly, waving her husband aside.

"No," Aragorn said firmly, fearing his humiliation would have no limits today. How he wished someone like Aedred were here, a male Healer, who would see him as just another patient.

"Are you certain?" Eowyn persisted, making as if to take the towel away.

"He had some bruised and reddened skin," Faramir interjected, " It is almost healed though. I treated it with some salve that Tarostar gave me. It smells like what you use for Elestelle's napkin rash."

Aragorn wished the ground would swallow him, that he, High King of Gondor and Arnor should be the object of a discussion concerning napkin rash in front of two women and his treacherous Steward!

Eowyn was unable to repress a smile at the thought of the King suffering from such an ailment. "Very well," she said, " But be sure to tell me at once if it comes back!"

When Faramir finally tucked the blanket round him, Aragorn felt grateful. At least, he no longer felt so exposed and his legs and feet felt much warmer. Since his ordeal, he was always so very cold. He looked up to smile at his wife, but she was preoccupied in holding a needle in a candle flame, preparing to stitch his wounds.

"I will be as gentle as I can," Arwen promised her husband. He tensed, as she prepared to insert the needle in his arm, not wanting her to see just how much he was hurting. Courageous though he was, the last weeks had left him apprehensive at the prospect of yet more pain.

Faramir yearned to offer some reassurance to his lord but knew it would not be welcomed. His eyes met Eowyn's. She moved to sit on the bed and wordlessly offered her hand to the King, who grasped it, grateful for the proffered comfort.

Arwen took a deep breath to steady herself before drawing together the damaged skin and carefully stitching the wounds under her husband's arm and elbow closed. She then repeated the procedure with the open wound on his chest.

Aragorn made no sound and tensed only slightly. If Arwen's ministrations were causing him pain, he was obviously determined not to show it.

When she came to the wound on his waist, she paused. It covered quite a large area and looked inflamed and slightly infected. She looked questioningly at her husband and then at Eowyn.

"It chafed badly from having to be held on Roheryn's back," Aragorn explained tersely. "I think stitching it would cause more harm than good."

"I will bandage it then and apply salves," said Eowyn. "Why did they take the skin from such strange places I wonder?"

"To make every movement painful and break my will. They did not succeed." A flicker of his former majesty was briefly visible in his features. "Sooner would I die than betray my family!"

"I know you would, Estel!" Arwen held her husband's hand while Eowyn applied the stinging salves and bound up the gaping wound. The strong mental bond between them meant she could sense his pain almost as if it were here own.

"I'm sorry, I know I am hurting you!" Eowyn apologised as she wound bandages around his chest, arms and middle and then pulled the blankets over him to keep him warm.

As if somehow sensing his parents' distress, Eldarion started to cry loudly in the next room, uttering high-pitched wails of distress.

"Our son needs you," Aragorn urged gently, "Go to him!"

Arwen hesitated. The wailing grew louder.

"Please, Arwen, go to our son! Eowyn can finish tending my wounds now." Aragorn's voice was barely audible above the cacophony.

"Are you certain?" Arwen's strong maternal instincts decreed that she soothe her child. Yet, how could she leave her husband at such a time?

"I cannot bear to hear him cry so! Take him for a walk in the garden to calm him," Aragorn suggested.

"I will return if you need me, Estel, you only need to call!" Arwen replied, before tenderly kissing her husband and hastening from the room.

"I should have given you poppy juice, I am sorry!" Eowyn apologised.

"I wanted to leave that for the worst part," Aragorn said quietly, ""This is the main reason I did not want Arwen to stay."

"What else ails you?" Eowyn asked in alarm.

Aragorn took a deep breath as he had been dreading this for some time now. "The bones in my hand need resetting," he said simply, holding out the damaged left hand for Eowyn's inspection.

Eowyn took it and cradled it between her own smaller hands as she studied the damage. All the digits had been broken. The smallest finger and the thumb were healing well, but the first three fingers had not been set correctly and had knit at an odd angle, rendering them virtually useless.

"When Faramir found me they had already started knitting and it was too late for him to do anything," Aragorn explained," I need you to break the fingers again and reset them."

Eowyn paled. "I cannot!" she gasped, "One of the Healers in the city will have to do it!"

Aragorn shook his head sadly. "How could I get to the City or you bring a Healer here without betraying our whereabouts?" he asked.

"Damrod then?" Eowyn suggested desperately, "He will come to visit us here soon and I know he has some experience of tending the wounded."

"He has not been trained like you and this needs doing quickly before it is too late for it to heal properly. What use would a one handed King be to his people! Please, Eowyn, I beg of you! "

Eowyn shook her head vehemently." Aragorn, I cannot hurt you so! Do not ask this of me!" she shuddered, recalling the ironic fact that but a year ago, she would have carried out the task with grim relish as she had hated him with such vehemence. So much had happened since then; not least, that he had saved her baby and Faramir too. Once, it had bewildered her why Faramir and her brother loved Aragorn so much .Now she understood and shared their love and admiration for this man. She looked again at his mangled hand and fury blazed within her that anyone could maim the very hand he had used to save her child!"

She looked across and met Faramir's eyes, which were filled with a pain equal to her own. Her eyes briefly lingered on the brand defacing Aragorn's shoulder and at that moment, she understood.

"Eowyn listen to me!" Aragorn said mustering his meagre reserves of strength, "You will harm me more if you will not to this! If you give me some poppy juice, it should not be too painful if you work quickly."

Eowyn bowed her head again and carefully felt the damaged joints. She knew exactly where the bones needed to be snapped and then splinted back in the correct position.

A painful procedure, but one she had been trained how to carry out and had once successfully done so before on a servant who had delayed seeking help for a broken finger. However, he was a virtual stranger, not a dear friend.

"I know it is hard for you, " Aragorn said quietly, "I had difficulty tending Faramir when he was so badly injured last year and on one occasion Aedred had to take out the stitches and drain the wound on his arm. Alas, there is no one else to call upon now but you!"

TBC

_A/N A very grateful thank you for all your much appreciated reviews. I have replied to everyone who was logged in._

_I have deliberately given the characters old-fashioned traits to emphasise that they live in a very different time and place to our own._

_Faramir has committed a crime, however good his reasons for it and is unlikely to attempt to justify himself, being so honourable._

_I have studied many accounts of disabled men to research this story and almost unanimously they have said they do not wish their wives to be their nurses to bathe and change them ect, as they want their wives to see them in a more romantic light . _

_Aragorn finds it very hard to accept care, being used to being the carer himself and fiercely self reliant._

_Thank you to whoever nominated "Burden of Guilt" for the "Mithril Awards". It reached the quarterfinals._


	48. The love that reassembles

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.**

**Derek Walcott (b. 1930), **

**With grateful thanks to Raksha for her help with this chapter.**

**Warning – This chapter contains material, which may upset sensitive readers.Pleaseread with caution.**

Eowyn sighed resignedly and gave a reluctant nod. "Very well, I will do as you ask," she said, "You must tell me, though, if the pain is too great! I will go and mix some poppy juice."

"You are planning to do it?" Faramir asked in horror as she made to leave the room.

"I don't want to, but it seems that I have no choice. He could lose the use of his hand if it is not set properly," Eowyn replied sadly.

"I need you here too, Faramir," Aragorn said once Eowyn had left. "Someone must hold me down and I would not have Arwen witness this!"

"I will not leave you," was all Faramir could bring himself to say. The prospect of seeing the King hurt again was almost more than he could bear.

Eowyn swiftly returned with a cup containing the opiate and lifted it to Aragorn's lips to swallow. She then rummaged in a cupboard and brought out one of Faramir's nightshirts.

"I think you will be more comfortable wearing this," she said somewhat surprising both men, since she usually found their insistence on wearing the garments at all times in bed somewhat hilarious. Offering it to him now, was her way of trying to comfort to the King whom she had come to care for as a brother.

"This is all you must wear while your wounds heal. You will have stay in bed to recover your strength for a while!" Eowyn said briskly, " I am going now to ask Arwen to stay in the garden with Elbeth and the babies while I set your hand."

As soon as she had left, Faramir helped Aragorn don the nightshirt and get into bed. He already looked pale and exhausted. The Steward feared that the bone setting would prove a cruel ordeal.Apart from a brief word of thanks, Aragorn said nothing. Desperate for something to do, Faramir carefully folded up the towels the King had been lying on.

Aragorn lay back against the pillows, trying to calm himself while waiting for the poppy juice to take effect. He knew that setting the bones would be a very painful ordeal, especially since Eowyn had very little experience in the procedure. He was no coward, but these past weeks had already inflicted more pain upon his body than he had ever believed he could endure.

Faramir, unable to find anything else to occupy himself with, sat beside him in silence. He felt woefully inadequate .He would gladly bear Aragorn's pain for him, yet he could not even comfort him. The King had tended his wounds many times, and had always displayed great skill combined with compassion, tenderness and reassurance. Now Faramir could do nothing save hope his wife's skills would prove equal to the task and assist her as best he could.

Instinctively, he reached for Aragorn's good hand in a gesture of comfort. Too wretched to pull away, the King accepted the gesture, albeit reluctantly.

Eowyn returned a few minutes later to check the pupils of her patient's eyes. They were dilated, a sign that the poppy juice was working as it should.

Her features set determinedly, she gathered together the bandages and splints she would need, together with a supply of rather sad looking comfrey leaves that she had obviously garnered freshly from the herb garden.

"Are you ready?" she asked, " I shall set all three now together. I think that easiest for us all."

" I am," Aragorn's resolute tone was belied by his pallor and the beads of sweat glistening on his brow.

Eowyn checked his pulse.Then she nodded to Faramir to hold Aragorn securely so the King could not jerk away involuntarily if the pain became too great.

Sweat dripping from his own brow, Faramir sat on the side of the bed and pinioned Aragorn's arms against the mattress. He felt as if he were back in that dreadful cellar, preparing to torture his King, even though this time it was entirely for his own good.

Eowyn took a deep breath and firmly grasped the first and most grotesquely angled of the damaged fingers. It was still tender and Aragorn flinched even as she probed it, feeling for the exact location of the fracture. Forcing herself to imagine that she was about to snap a twig rather than a finger, she braced herself. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"Yes," Aragorn replied."

"You are certain you want me to do this." There was a hint of pleading in her tone.

"I am certain. Do it quickly, I beg of you and do not stop however I react!"

Faramir looked at his wife trying to will her the strength to do what she must.

She gritted her teeth, and with all her might, snapped the King's finger.

Aragorn gave a strangled cry, but made no attempt to break free of Faramir's restraining grasp. The Steward had to look away, unable to bear the contortions of pain in his lord's features.

Eowyn took another deep breath and then turned her attention to the second finger. It proved much harder to set; and she had to make several attempts before she succeeded. Aragorn could no longer bite back his cries of pain.

The third finger caused even more woe, as it was broken in more than one place. Eowyn had the training and skill for the task, but lacked the experience needed and struggled to snap the bone. She wished Aragorn could faint to make the task easier for them both. . By now, Aragorn was screaming in agony and calling Arwen's name. Eowyn was only able to continue by thinking of what she would like to do to whatever villain had originally crushed his fingers.

"All done!" she said last in a rather choked tone. "There is just the splinting now."

Faramir released Aragorn, who fell back limply against the pillows. He had passed the limits of his endurance.The King of Gondor and Arnor burst into tears and his frail body heaved with convulsive sobbing.

Faramir gathered his lord in his arms and simply held him, gently rubbing his back and murmuring Elvish words of comfort while Eowyn pressed the bones back into place, then wrapped comfrey leaves around the fractures. Finally, she carefully splinted and bandaged each finger, forcing herself to concentrate and maintain her composure. Aragorn was in too much pain to be properly aware of who was holding him.

Eventually, the almost unconscious King went limp. Faramir gently lowered him onto the pillows before taking a cloth and wiping his sweat and tear stained face. He then tenderly kissed his forehead.

When he straightened up and moved away from the bedside, Eowyn could see that her husband had also been weeping.

"I will fetch Arwen now," she said quietly, "You need to rest, we both do."

She bent and kissed Aragorn's uninjured hand, whispering, " I am sorry!"

Eowyn's stomach rebelled before she could fetch the Queen. A wave of uncontrollable nausea hit her; forcing her to make a detour to the privy, where she lost the breakfast she had eaten earlier.

Faramir busied himself tidying up the room and straightening the covers while he waited for the Queen. He hoped fervently that Eowyn's intervention had not come too late and that Aragorn would regain the full use of his hand.

The King moaned softly and shifted uneasily in the bed as he regained consciousness.

"I thought you were asleep, my lord, are you in pain still?" Faramir asked anxiously.

"A little… it will pass…glad it is over… " Aragorn whispered. "Arwen?"

"Eowyn has gone for the Queen, " Faramir reassured him. "You should have allowed your lady to stay."

"I did not want her to be distressed, or angered at Eowyn. Arwen is used to seeing only the best, the most skilful of healers, at work. It had to be done. You understand? Alas, that I am such a coward!"

"You are the bravest man I know!" Faramir reassured him He wondered how ever, anyone could endure weeks of such torment without being driven completely insane. Spending a few hours in prison had almost destroyed him a few months before. "Rest now, " he soothed.

A few minutes later, an anxious Arwenentered the room,clutching Eldarion in her arms.

Faramir immediately rose to his feet; "My lady," he said bowing.

"How is he?" she demanded, " Eowyn told me that resetting his hand was a great ordeal for him."

"It was, but he is resting now, my lady. I will take my leave," Faramir said, casting one last anxious glance at the King before he left the room. He appeared to finally have fallen asleep.

After settling her sleeping child in the cradle at the foot of the bed, Arwen satbeside her husband, lovingly stroking his face and using all her Elven skills to soothe the pain she sensed in his body and soul. 'How could my strong, handsome Estel have been reduced to this broken shell of his former self?' she wondered sadly, trying to pour some of the strength of the Eldar into his frail mortal body.

"Arwen?" His grey eyes flickered open.

"I am here, beloved."

"Stay with me, please!" he whispered.

"I will never leave you." Arwen unbound her hair, then unfastened her outer gown and stepped out of it, leaving her clad only in her thin shift. She draped the gown over the bedside chair then climbed into bed beside her husband, careful not to aggravate his wounds.

Gently she kissed his face and stroked his pitifully thin body. Eowyn had warned her that he was seriously ill, weeks of starvation and ill treatment having taken their toll. Only time would tell whether or not there was any damage inside and how well he would heal. It was a miracle that Faramir had managed to bring him back here alive.

"I love you so much!" she whispered.

"I love you too; but what manner of a husband now can I be to you?" Aragorn lamented.

"You are still the man I love, the man to whom I have given my heart!" she assured him, tenderly kissing his lips. Her soft tresses brushed across his face and her perfume had never smelled sweeter.

Reassuredby her nearness and tender caresses, Aragorn slept, the lines of pain and distress smoothed from his brow by his wife's loving hands.

Faramir found Eowyn stretched out upon the sofa, her head buried in a cushion to stifle her sobs. He sat down beside her and drew her close.

"Oh, Faramir, it was so hideous having to hurt him so much, and after all I could see he alreadyendured!" she sobbed.

"You understand now." Faramir said sadly, "When I had to brand him or betray my true loyalty, I felt my heart break! If you could but have seen the look in his eyes, the hurt and betrayal!"

They clung to each other for mutual comfort. Eowyn knew now just how much it had cost Faramir to raise his hand against the King.

They had just started to exchange some tender but increasingly passionate kisses when Elbeth interrupted them. Hastily, they pulled apart.

"The kittens won't play any more and are hiding from me!" she complained.

"That is because they are little and need plenty of sleep just like a baby does," Faramir explained gesturing towards Elestelle's cradle.

"Where is Strider?" Elbeth demanded.

"He is resting now with the Queen." Eowyn told her.

"Why couldn't I stay with him and Uncle Faramir last night? "Elbeth asked. "I didn't like being alone in the kitchen!"

"You are not camping in the woods any longer. You must remember now that you are a Lady of Gondor, a daughter of the House of Hurin!" Eowyn told her. "Tonight you can stay with me and the Queen if she agrees."

" I don't like being a Lady of Gondor, " Elbeth pouted, "I'm bored! "

"You can help me with the washing, then!" Eowyn said, getting to her feet, hastily wiping her face with her apron.

"I will seeto the horses," Faramir volunteered.

"I have fed them but they need grooming and exercising," Eowyn replied.

"That sounds more fun than washing!" Elbeth protested.

"Washing can be fun, let me show you!" Eowyn said firmly, sensing that Faramir needed to be alone for a while.

The Steward made his way to the stables and entered Zachus' stall. He picked up a brush, but instead of grooming the large bay, he buried his head against his massive neck, overwhelmed with his fears for Aragorn. Could the King ever recover from such an ordeal and be whole again? His own future was bleak whatever happened. However, his beloved Gondor still had a chance to flourish, but that could only happen if she were ruled by her rightful King.

TBC

_A/N ._

_I am reposting this chapter as it has been brought to my attention that therewere excessive formatting errors, which somehow occured during posting.I hope they are now fixed._

_A very big thank you for your much appreciated reviews and wonderful response to the last chapter. I have replied to everyone who was logged in._


	49. A little child shall lead them

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Isaiah 11. 6**

**The Bible **

**The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.**

Eowyn tried to teach Elbeth how to use a dolly peg. However, her mind was not fully engaged with the task. She was far too worried about Aragorn, She had seen the King seriously ill before when they had been at the Hunting Lodge, but then his ordeal had been of a short duration and aided by his Numenorean strength, he had quickly recovered.

This time was very different, for he seemed to be as broken in spirit as in body. How she wished she could send for a more skilled and experienced Healer to tend his hurts. She had never been trained for anything like this; only the usual minor accidents and fevers, which most households could expect to befall them. Her main expertise was in women's troubles, most especially bringing babies into the world.

Then there was the pain, fear and distrust in Aragorn's eyes when he looked at Faramir, which Eowyn felt was another obstacle to his recovery. She had seen how the bond between them had sustained him before. He did have the advantage of his beloved Queen at his side, but Eowyn wondered if he venerated her so much that he might try to shield her from the pain he felt.

Then there was her husband. She was worried too about Faramir. He had changed so much since he had set out on this mission. There was a new darkness and a hardness about him. It was as if he had lost some essential innocence, which had been part of him before.

She had witnessed something similar many times in her life, in men who had seen and done terrible things during time of war. Faramir had been a brave soldier and respected Captain, who had managed to somehow keep his honour throughout the horrors of battle. Now, the look in eyes, suggested that he had lost that, which he held most dear.

He had indeed, committed a grievous deed against his liege lord, however necessary it had been to save him. She did not greatly fear Aragorn's wrath, for after all, he had pardoned her for raising his own sword against him, for far less reason. However, she had not actually struck a blow as Faramir had. Nor had she been Aragorn's closest, most trusted and best-loved friend.

She knew too, that Faramir's soul was most likely as wounded as Aragorn's body and more deeply than she could ever hope to understand. She found the intensity of both Elvish and Numenorean emotions both bewildering and sometimes alarming. She sincerely hoped that Elestelle would take after her, rather than Faramir in that respect, though already she suspected a fey quality in the child.

"I'm bored!" announced Elbeth, breaking into her reverie.

"Have you turned the dolly peg a hundred times yet?" Eowyn asked, wringing out a shirt from the tub of washing, she had been concentrating on.

"Yes and it boring!" Elbeth protested." I want to help look after Strider!"

"Well, you can't!" Eowyn snapped. As if she hadn't enough troubles, without having to look after this infuriating child!

"Why not?" Elbeth demanded.

"Because there are plenty of grown ups to look after him now," Eowyn told her. "Little girls do not look after sick men!"

Elbeth promptly burst into tears.

Somewhat ashamed of her harshness, for after all it was hardly the child's fault that Faramir felt obliged to bring her here, Eowyn rather awkwardly reached out towards her. Elbeth wriggled away as if expecting to be struck.

"Go and see if Uncle Faramir wants any help with the horses," she said more gently, thinking he had had sufficient time alone with his thoughts. "Ask him to show you, my horse, Windfola.He is a fine horse and he likes being made a fuss of. When I have more time, we will take him an apple and you shall make friends with him."

Elbeth scuttled away, glad to escape.

Eowyn doggedly continued washing Aragorn and Faramir's clothes, as well as the sheets that had been on the bed. She was just about to start on a dozen or so babies' napkins when Bereth came in.

"May I help you, my lady?" she asked.

"Do we have anything to make a nourishing broth for my friend's husband?" Eowyn enquired.

"I could kill a chicken and make him broth as well as a meal for us all," Bereth replied.

"Thank, you, you are a good friend to us," Eowyn said, smiling at the woman gratefully.

"I think I know who he is," Bereth said quietly, "I will not endanger him, though by speaking of it. I shall say only. that it is a great honour to serve a man, such as him!"

"If all were as loyal as you and your brother, Bereth, our lord would be blessed indeed!"Eowyn replied. "I am certain that if he is able, he will reward you handsomely."

"I desire no reward save that of serving my King!" the young widow replied her eyes alight with devotion.

Glad to have some help with the cooking, Eowyn returned her attention to the washing. As a Princess of Rohan and of Ithilien, she had never had to do the household laundry herself. She vowed inwardly to appreciate her servants more in future, if she were ever returned to her rightful status.

A few hours later, the washing was hanging out to dry and Bereth almost had the meal ready. Elbeth had found a kitten to cuddle contentedly. Faramir had returned with her from the stables looking somewhat calmer. He had been singing her a song about bathing that he had learned from Pippin, which entertained her until the mother cat had reappeared with her kittens.

Eowyn went to see how the King was faring and found him cradled in Arwen's arms.

"I have come to tell you that our meal is ready," she told Arwen, "How is he?"

"A little more comfortable, I think," said the Queen.

"I will fetch some broth for him," said Eowyn.

"I am not hungry," Aragorn said without opening his eyes. The effort to wake up seemed too great. His whole body throbbed with pain and he sought to return to the merciful oblivion of sleep. "A drink will suffice."

"You need to eat to restore your strength, beloved, " Arwen said gently, holding a cup of water on the bedside table to his lips, "I will get you some food."

Once he had drained the cup, she put it down and climbed out of bed Just as she was donning her gown. Eldarion woke up and started to cry. His mother took him from his cradle and realised at once that he needed changing and feeding.

"I will feed Aragorn while you tend Eldarion and have something to eat yourself," Eowyn volunteered.

"Thank you, "Arwen said gratefully.

"Send Faramir to me, I need to get out of bed," said Aragorn.

The Queen took Eldarion into the other room to change him, while Eowyn sent her husband to attend the King.

"Can I see Strider now?" Elbeth asked as she filled a bowl with broth for the King in the kitchen.

"Later, maybe," Eowyn replied. "Finish your dinner now!"

"But I want to see Strider!" Elbeth grumbled.

"You cannot always have what you want!" Eowyn retorted. She feared this child was going to be far too much like what she knew about her supposed sire. She had only met Boromir twice and had not much liked him, considering him somewhat arrogant and overbearing. She had come to realise that that was the fault of his over indulgent father. It baffled her why Denethor had so preferred the elder of his sons, to the extent that it was still sometimes hard to convince Faramir, that he was not inferior to his dead brother, and was indeed the greatest of his family, having staunchly resisted the Ring and Sauron's evil snares. Then the child's mother was both crazed and evil.

She returned with a tray, containing bowls of chicken broth and stewed fruit, just as Faramir was tucking the covers around Aragorn again.

"You go and eat now, " she told her husband, placing the tray on the bedside table.

"I will be in the kitchen if you need me, " Faramir said. He left but did not close the bedroom door behind him.

Eowyn settled herself on the side of the bed and dipped the spoon in the chicken broth. " I have some nice broth for you," she said encouragingly, raising the spoon to Aragorn's lips.

"I am not hungry," Aragorn said morosely before clamping his mouth shut.

"You must eat," Eowyn insisted.

"Does my word count for nothing any longer?" Aragorn demanded. "I want to rest and I want Arwen!"

"She will return soon, " Eowyn replied, "Your son needs her care too. Now you must eat, open your mouth!"

"I am not hungry!" Aragorn opened his mouth just long enough to get the words out." And I am weary of being treated like a child!"

"Let me try!" Elbeth had appeared in the open doorway. At that moment, Elestelle decided that she was hungry and started to cry demandingly. Exhausted after the morning's exertions, and trying to cope with the demands of so many, Eowyn's patience finally snapped.

"Didn't I tell you to stay in the kitchen and eat your dinner, Elbeth?" she snapped, " And you, Aragorn, are going to eat yours, even if I have to sit here all day!"

"Let her try!" Faramir's quiet voice was barely audible over the cacophony. "She has finished her own meal."

Ignoring the adults, Elbeth clambered up on the bed and kissed Aragorn's forehead." I missed you, Strider!" she said, "They wouldn't let me see you!"

"I missed you too, Elbeth!" Aragorn managed to smile at the little girl's obvious pleasure in seeing him.

"I've found some kittens to play with, I'll bring them to show you," Elbeth prattled cheerfully.

"Come!" Faramir took his wife's arm and guided her from the room.

A little later, once Elestelle was quieted, Eowyn dared put her head round the door and was met by the sight of Elbeth spooning food into Aragorn's mouth, which he was devouring obediently.

"I would never have believed it!" she remarked to Faramir, who had appeared at her side.

"Elbeth has a bond with Aragorn and he trusts her," Faramir said somewhat wistfully.

The dishes emptied, Elbeth put down the spoon. "I will fetch the kittens to show you now, Strider," she announced.

Aragorn smiled.

"They will get muddy paw prints over the bedcovers!" Eowyn fretted.

"We can put a towel to cover the bed," Faramir suggested.

Soon afterwards, three inquisitive kittens were exploring the counterpane and chasing some chicken feathers, which Eowyn had tied on a string. Aragorn was chuckling slightly at their antics.

When the kittens tired and fell asleep, followed soon after by the King, Eowyn called Elbeth to her side.

" I am sorry that I was so ill tempered earlier, " she said.

"I'm used to grown ups being cross, " the little girl replied without rancour.

Eowyn impulsively hugged her, realising that this child represented all that was good and warm hearted about the Steward's family." I have a very important job for you from now on," she said.

"What is it? Doing the washing is boring!" Elbeth said suspiciously.

Eowyn laughed. "No, you are far to valuable to waste doing that!" she said, "No, I want you to help look after the King."

"That's not a job!" Elbeth replied, "It's fun helping Strider because he's my friend!"

As the days passed, Aragorn gradually grew a little stronger and was able to get out of bed unassisted. Faramir's back was now much better too, so Arwen was able to sleep beside her husband at night. During the day, they took it in turns to sit with him. He seemed to especially enjoy Elbeth's company and had told her some stories of his youth.

Arwen, Faramir and Eowyn were still very worried however. Although the King's body was healing, he was still morose and withdrawn and only Elbeth seemed to have the ability to raise the occasional smile from his lips, though it never quite seemed to reach his haunted grey eyes.

That night, Faramir and Eowyn had settled to sleep on the couch and were slumbering peacefully as was Elbeth by the stove in the kitchen.

They were awoken with a start at the sound of a woman's scream, which appeared to be coming from the bedroom.

Grabbing a candle, they rushed in to find a highly distressed Arwen struggling with her husband who was shouting "No! Let me be, no!"

TBC

_A/N A very big thank you for all your much appreciated comments. I have replied to everyone who was logged in. I greatly enjoy reading your comments and answering any questions or concerns. _

_This chapter was a late addition to the story, which only came to me a few days ago._


	50. Come weep with me, past hope, past cure,

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

_**For Julia ,with grateful thanks for her help with this chapter.**_

**Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help!**

**William Shakespeare (1564–1616), Romeo and Juliet, act 4, sc. 1, l. 45. **

**Warning - This chapter contains material, which may distress sensitive readers. It is not meant to condone domestic violence in any way.**

It was as well that they had brought a candle to illuminate the otherwise pitch-blackness of the room, revealing a disturbing scene.

Aragorn was lashing out wildly, striking at Arwen, and resisting her increasingly futile attempts to restrain him. Despite his weakened condition, he was still able to land a blow with considerable force. 

Faramir immediately realised that Aragorn was suffering from one of the hideous nightmares, which had plagued him since his ordeal. No doubt, the darkness of the room had caused it. Aragorn had wanted lights to be kept burning at all times since he had rescued him. He placed the candle on the table, so that the bed was illuminated, then hastily averted his eyes from the Queen, who was clad only in her nightgown.

"No, Estel, please!" Arwen begged. "Be at peace, it is I, your wife!"

Hearing the distress in his mother's voice, Eldarion started to cry, adding to the commotion.

"Come, Arwen! He is not himself," Eowyn coaxed, gently pulling her away. The Queen suddenly snatched up Eldarion and fled sobbing from the room. Eowyn followed her.

Faramir took Arwen's place by the bed and gripped Aragorn's arms firmly. The King continued to struggle and lash out wildly, all the while staring vacantly with unseeing eyes.

"Easy, my lord! You are safe now." Faramir said firmly, gently shaking the King as he spoke. "Eowyn, can you bring more candles, please?" he called to her through the open door.

Aragorn's struggles had grown less but he still writhed and moaned as if reliving some dark horrors in his mind.

Eowyn rushed in with several candles and placed them all on the table, flooding the room with light. "How is he?" she asked.

"I cannot wake him," Faramir sighed.

Unnoticed by the adults, Elbeth had left her makeshift bed by the fire and followed Eowyn. The little girl joined Faramir beside Aragorn.

"Strider!" she called, "Wake up, it's me, Elbeth!"

"Wake up, sire!" Faramir continued to call, glad of Elbeth's presence, yet feeling guilty that he should allow a child to witness this.

Aragorn blinked and suddenly focused on his companions, looking extremely confused. "What happened?" he asked. "Where is Arwen?"

"In the kitchen. You accidentally struck her," Eowyn said bluntly. "I must return to her. She is somewhat distressed." Closing the door behind her, she left the room.

"You were having a nightmare," Faramir explained quietly.

"Nightmares scare me too!" Elbeth said comfortingly." Was a monster chasing you? I once dreamed that and it was horrid!"

"I struck my wife?" Aragorn asked bleakly. "If so, then I am the monster!"

"You did not mean to. You were unaware of what you were doing," Faramir soothed. He gently rubbed the King's back. He could feel him trembling beneath the thin nightshirt he wore.

"How could I? What have I done? My beloved Arwen!" Aragorn suddenly burst into tears. The convulsive sobs racked his emaciated body almost breaking Faramir's heart to witness.

The Steward sat on the side of the bed beside him and impulsively gathered his lord in his arms. In spite of everything, the bond between them was still strong enough for him to keenly sense the King's distress.

Aragorn buried his head against Faramir's shoulder. Despite everything that his Steward had done, he craved what meagre comfort he could now offer.

Faramir might well be a traitor, but he had become the lowest of the low, a man who beat his wife, and not just any wife, but the glorious Evenstar of her people, who had forsworn immortality to remain at his side. He had failed, not only as a King but also as a Man. He had raised his hand against the woman he had sworn always to love and cherish.

Head bowed, the Queen sank down heavily on a chair, clutching Eldarion fiercely to her. The baby had stopped crying but tears ran down his mother's cheeks.

"Look at me Arwen!" Eowyn said, gently but firmly.

Arwen reluctantly looked up. Only then did her friend notice the ugly red mark that

disfigured her pale cheek.

"What has happened to my husband?" she whispered, as much to herself as to Eowyn. "He was always so kind, so gentle, so patient…" her voice trailed away.

"You are the most loving and devoted couple I have ever known," said Eowyn, hoping to keep her friend talking.

"When we were first married he was so afraid of hurting me," Arwen said wistfully, "We were both felt terrified on the night of our marriage. The stone walls and servants' hiding behind every door made it very difficult. My grandmother noticed the next morning that I looked less than a radiant bride. She suggested that we take our blankets to a secluded spot in the garden where we could see the stars. Estel was so loving…so tender. He told me of Faramir's vision of our line stretching through countless generations. I knew then our union would be a blessed and fruitful one. We have been so happy together too, until today. I never thought that he would raise his hand against me, never!"

"What happened?" Eowyn asked gently, putting her arm around her friend. The beautiful Elf was shivering, so Eowyn snatched up a blanket from the couch in the next room and tucked it around her.

"Eldarion woke up and needed feeding, which I did. When he was finished, I settled him back in his cradle, then blew out the candle, and settled down to sleep again. The next thing I knew, Estel was lashing out and shouting at me to go away! It was so unlike him. Does he no longer love me?"

"Never think that, Arwen!" Eowyn said firmly, "I see it in his eyes every time he looks at you, how much he adores you. I am sure there must be an explanation. He might have accidentally caught you with the splints on his injured hand, perhaps? Now, I am going to make some tea. I think we all need a cup!"

After giving the Queen a comforting hug, she busied herself with the cups, then looked through her jars of herbs, wondering what might best ease the troubled King and Queen.

As soon as the water had boiled, she stirred some herbs into the brew and coaxed Arwen to drink.

Gradually, some colour returned to the Queen's ashen features and she regained some of her usual placid composure.

"Thank you," she told Eowyn. "Please could you hold Eldarion, while I wash my face? I must return to Estel."

Aragorn's weeping had gradually subsided to the occasional choked sob. Faramir still held him, while Elbeth regaled them with a story about how she had been unable to find her kitten until Bereth had shown her it to her, curled up asleep in the barn with its mother and brothers and sisters.

Eowyn entered the room, bearing two cups of steaming tea and a glass of milk just as Elbeth concluded her story. After handing the milk to Elbeth, and a cup of tea to her husband, she held the other cup to Aragorn's lips, "Drink this!" she told him, "I have added valerian and chamomile, which should ease you."

He wanted to refuse, feeling he deserved no kindnesses. However, he was dreadfully thirsty and obediently sipped the drink until he had drained the cup. He then let Eowyn settle him back on the pillows, where he lay with his eyes closed, limp and exhausted.

A few minutes later, Arwen somewhat hesitantly entered, a robe over her nightgown and carrying Eldarion. A purple bruise across her cheek disfigured her usually flawless complexion and despite her efforts to wash away all traces, there were still tearstains on her cheeks.

"My lady." Faramir courteously rose to his feet. "I would speak with you." He led her out into the living room.

"How do you fare, my lady?" Faramir enquired gently.

"Aragorn struck me!" she said in a bewildered tone. "I do not think he even knew who I was! And why should he do such a thing ?"

"He fears the darkness," Faramir explained.

"I have known him more than seventy years and he has never been afraid of the dark before!" Arwen protested.

"He was not locked in a dark cellar before, with pain thirst, hunger and the scuttling of rats his only companions! " Faramir said sadly," He has had dreadful nightmares ever since. He would have been completely unaware of his surroundings. Has he not told you?"

Arwen's eyes opened wide in horror as she shook her head.

"I can only imagine just how much he must have endured during his imprisonment, even though I was at that dreadful place. I do know, though, how much the thought of you sustained him," Faramir continued, "He loves you dearly, my lady."

Arwen nodded, suddenly resolute. "Thank you for telling me this. He will not speak to me of it. The marks on his body cannot tell the whole story of what he must have endured. I must go to him now."

Settled back on his pillows, with Eowyn and Elbeth seated either side of him; Aragorn was on the verge of falling into an uneasy sleep. Eowyn took Elbeth by the hand and let her towards the door. "We are only in the next room if you need us," she said, before quietly closing the door.

Aragorn opened his eyes and looked at his wife. Immediately, he noticed the spreading bruise. All thoughts of sleep banished, he sat upright, overcome at the sight of the evidence of the hurt he had caused. "Arwen, no!" he whispered, "I am so sorry. what have I done?"

"You did not even know I was there. I should not have blown out the candle," she said gently, replacing a sleepy Eldarion in his cradle while spoke. She hovered at the foot of the bed, still slightly apprehensive. Never could she have imagined, that her husband would ever strike her. She knew of such horrors, but it was how drunken brutes on the first level might behave, not her Estel! He had even passed laws decreeing that such men should be punished.

"It was so dark. I thought they were coming again to torment me. I lashed out to try to protect myself. I had no idea where I was. How can you ever forgive me? I have wronged you most grievously! It would be best if you stayed with Eowyn in the other room, where no harm can come to you!" Aragorn buried his face in hands and wept anew.

Arwen was immediately at his side, enfolding him in her loving arms. "Eldarion has struck me and bitten me several times and I have forgiven him, she said gently, her voice full of compassion.

"He is but six months old. I am a man full grown who should know far better." Aragorn replied bleakly, stiffening in her embrace. "I no longer deserve your love, dearest and best of wives!"

"I have given you my heart for all eternity," Arwen replied." I have given you my love. Nothing could take that away." Tenderly, she stroked his hair, massaged the back of his neck and caressed his still bruised face, until at last he relaxed in her arms.

"Vanimelda!" Aragorn murmured.

"Let me come to bed now," said Arwen, "I would be beside you."

"Leave the candle burning, I could not live with myself if I struck you again!" Aragorn whispered, his head still bowed with shame. "How can I ever atone for what I have done to you?"

"Share your thoughts with me, Estel!" Arwen demanded, placing her hand on the bowed head.

"No! I cannot allow you to see such darkness." Aragorn protested, trying to move away from her.

"I am your wife. How can I understand what happened to you otherwise? I am stronger than you imagine, and have known many sorrows during the long centuries of my life," Arwen said firmly, pressing her head against her husband's.

Then, all at once, she knew and understood what Faramir had been trying to explain and what Aragorn had until now tried to shield her from. She started to weep again as the knowledge hurt her far more than the blow that he would no more intentionally have dealt her, than have cut off his own right hand. Yet, only this knowledge would enable her to help him. She realised now, that even Elbeth, had understood more of what he had endured than she did.

"Estel, I love you so much!" she whispered. She lay down beside him, drawing his head against her bosom and tenderly caressed him until he slept.

She remained wakeful for long after, staring at the candle flame and wondering how long it would take to find again the strong, kingly man she had married concealed within this broken man she held now in her arms.

TBC

_A/N_

_Many thanks for your much appreciated comments, which I greatly enjoy reading.I have replied to everyone who was logged in._


	51. The die is cast

_These Characters are the property of the Estate of J. R. R Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story has been written for pleasure and no profit has or will be made from it._

**The die is cast. - ****Julius Caesar**

**Every decision is liberating, even if it leads to disaster. Otherwise, why do so many people walk upright and with open eyes into their misfortune? - ****Elias Canetti **

The days passed and Aragorn's wounds slowly healed. Gradually, he grew stronger in body, helped considerably by all the care Arwen and his friends lavished upon him.

They watched over him day and night, coaxing him to eat and drink to build up his strength, tended his wounds and tried to cheer him. However, he remained withdrawn and morose and revealed nothing of what he planned to do once he recovered.

Faramir, much to his dismay, had discovered that Elbeth could neither read nor write and set out to teach her how. Once Aragorn was able to use his right hand properly, he suggested that the King take over the task, hoping that it would distract him and raise his spirits.

Elbeth proved an apt pupil, and her enthusiasm for learning, served to somewhat distract Aragorn from his troubles, though he remained somewhat melancholy.

Since the night, when he had inadvertently struck Arwen and allowed his Steward to comfort him; he had developed an uneasy rapport with Faramir, though he still could not bring himself to wholly trust him.

There were just too many questions, to which Faramir seemed either unwilling, or unable to provide an answer. The Steward had neither attempted to justify himself nor made any plea for pardon, despite having expressed what seemed to be sincere contrition. A change had come over Faramir, and whether it was as result of his actions, or regret at not having seized power for himself and his brother's offspring, Aragorn dared not probe further.

The King's love for Eldarion was intense, yet he found it hard to spend time with his son, knowing he had most likely lost the child his birthright of ruling the Reunited Kingdom. He retained his affection for Elestelle, but again, found it hard to be in her presence. She seemed to look at him with her father's eyes as they once had been, so full of love and innocence.

Faramir worked tirelessly, aiding the King and helping the women but said little. His back still pained him at times, but he concealed his discomfort, having no wish to be tended again by Arwen. Not only did he find it acutely embarrassing, being seen half naked by his Queen, but it had served to remind him all too painfully of the treatments Aragorn had given him in the past.

He was well aware that Aragorn had used the Elven techniques on him for bonding as much as healing, and also used a special variation meant only for a dear friend or kinsman. Also, the warmth that once was in Aragorn's hands was in itself a healing touch. Now, those same hands were cold and devoid of healing power, and never again would Aragorn wish to treat him as a son.

Arwen had concentrated every healing art she knew, including her Elven massage skills on her husband .He found himself almost as uncomfortable as Faramir had been, albeit for very different reasons.

Although, as always he rejoiced in his wife's touch, he could take only comfort from it. The thrill no longer coursed through his body at her nearness .She could almost have been his sister.

She had not chosen mortality for some scarred and disfigured invalid, but a fit and healthy man in his prime .He felt he had cheated her out of what was her right. He hated her to see the frailty and ugliness that was now his mortal body.

Worse still, was to feel her fingertips against his skin, roughened from weeks of kitchen chores in the winter. He can only won his wife on the condition that she would be the Queen of Gondor and Arnor, given every luxury that the world of men could offer. Yet, he had succeeded in reducing the beautiful Evenstar to the status of a kitchen maid! How he despised himself for so doing.

His wounds had closed and the stitches had been removed, leaving his body healed but hideously scarred. Unless, he could return to either Minas Tirith or Rivendell, it would remain so, as only an Elven mud bath could heal him completely. Now his bruises had faded, the brand bearing Devorin's initials, stood out more livid than ever, a shameful reminder of what Faramir had done.

He had been somewhat cheered, however, when Eowyn had examined his left hand and pronounced that it was healing well and he should soon regain the full use of it. She had removed the splints and he was slowly regaining the use of his fingers.

One morning, they were all sitting around the kitchen table finishing breakfast. Elbeth had gone outside to play and the adults were discussing their plans for the coming day. A sudden knock on the door startled them.

"Hide!" snapped Eowyn bundling the men into the bedroom. The fear in her eyes was all too obvious. Had they remained hidden all these weeks only to be discovered now?

Faramir snatched up his sword. Pushing the King behind him, he stood poised behind the door ready to repel intruders. The prospect that the rebels had discovered their whereabouts was terrifying, with Aragorn still not fully recovered and their wives and children to protect.

"All is well, it is only Damrod!" Arwen called, while ushering the young Captain into the living room.

Heaving a collective sigh of relief, Aragorn and Faramir joined her.

On seeing the King, Damrod dropped on one knee and kissed his uninjured hand.

"My Lord King!" he exclaimed reverentially.

Aragorn grasped his shoulder and bent forward to kiss him on the brow much to Damrod's surprise. "Do not kneel, my friend!" he said, " I owe you a debt I can never repay for protecting my wife and child and Lord Faramir's family!"

Damrod flushed shyly, "It was my pleasure to help, sire!" he replied.

"It is good to see you, Damrod!" Faramir greeted him, looking at him somewhat wistfully. He too, had once been as Damrod was now.

"Sit down and tell me what is happening in the City!" Aragorn ordered.

Eowyn went to fetch him some refreshments.

"There is a great deal of confusion and uncertainty, sire," Damrod replied, " Prince Imrahil is still in charge of the Council but some of the other Nobles, most noticeably the Lords of Ringlo Vale and Lebennin oppose his rule. The Lord of Lamedon did so too, but he was found murdered near Lord Devorin's Hunting Lodge. They are all vying to become Regent when Prince Eldarion is found, or to seize absolute power if he and the Queen fail to return. The Nobles are trying to push through repressive laws limiting free speech and repressing the poor, overturning all the reforms you have made, sire. So far, Prince Imrahil has resisted them, but the people are terrified!"

"My poor people!" Aragorn lamented," I wanted so much to bring them peace and security."

"What has been said of my disappearance?" Faramir enquired, a trifle hesitantly.

Damrod took a gulp from the mug of ale that Eowyn had brought him. "It is said Prince Imrahil believes that you took your own life out of shame for betraying the King, Lord Faramir, if you will pardon me repeating what I have heard?" he said, shifting uncomfortably on his chair.

"Please, speak freely, I am not angry and would know the truth." Faramir reassured him, though his eyes showed his inner distress.

"The common folk say various things," Damrod continued, "Some say you have been murdered, some that you have run off to join the rebels, while others hope that you will come and save them if the King's laws to protect them are repealed. Most of the people accuse you of abandoning your Lord and Land, though." Damrod was unable to meet Faramir's eyes and stared miserably at the floor.

The Steward sighed deeply but said nothing.

"What of the army?" Aragorn asked, "Where do their loyalties lie?"

"They still support you, sire, or rather your son, since they still believe you to be dead. Now the fever has abated, they are planning to hold your funeral in three days time. I strongly suspect that if there is still no sign of Prince Eldarion by then, one of the Rebels will declare himself Ruling Steward."

"The gall of it!" Faramir exclaimed, "Unfortunately, they are all distantly related to my family in some way. Most of the noble families have intermarried with each other over the centuries."

"Some say the Rebels are less confident than they were, and there is less talk of Lady Elbeth than before. However, it is likely they will try to seize power on some pretext or other."

"I have a feeling they could find a substitute for Elbeth if they looked hard enough," Faramir mused.

"How could that be?" Aragorn asked.

"Much as I loved Boromir and dislike speaking any ill of his memory, I was not blind to his faults, " Faramir said thoughtfully, "Unfortunately, he considered our people's ideals of chastity and fidelity outmoded. Therefore, it would not surprise me, if a variety of serving maids and tavern wenches had surrendered their virtue to him. He would never have forced a woman, but with his good looks and high standing in society, he would doubtless have found willing women a plenty, of a certain kind, especially with no many having lost their men folk during the years we fought to keep Mordor at bay."

"Alas for Boromir that he prized his virtue so little! " Aragorn sighed, "It is well worth waiting for the right mate!"

"Boromir never wanted to be tied down by marriage. The Army was his life," Faramir said, " However, he liked women and lacked the strength to resist temptation, alas."

"One of my comrades, who used to work for the Lord of Ringlo Vale, told me that his lordship was very interested in any children born on his lands with grey eyes and dark hair." Damrod added, "He thought it was very odd."

"At least we now have Elbeth and the rebels will find it much harder without her," Faramir said, "She was meant to make their seizure of power appear as merely uniting the two great Houses."

"You have the child then, my lord?" Damrod enquired.

" I would have had to kill her otherwise. She posed too great a threat to the King." Faramir said bleakly, "Though, I very much doubt a marriage ever took place, I am convinced she is Boromir's daughter."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows at this latest revelation. The Faramir, he once knew would never even have contemplated killing an innocent child. Yet, this was also a glimpse of the man who would never lie, however painful the truth might be. Could such a man have really carried off the elaborate pretext that he claimed?

Faramir hastily changed the subject to what they should do now. It was something that they had all been thinking of but none had dared voice aloud until Aragorn's health and spirits were restored.

"We should send a message to Rohan and ask my brother for help to restore you to your throne," Eowyn suggested.

Aragorn shook his head, "I know Eomer would aid me gladly, but I would not plunge Gondor into civil war!" he said firmly, "Already, I am resented for ruling with too much foreign influence, coming as I do from the North and not being married to a lady of Gondor. They see me as an eccentric ranger from the wilds. The people must want me back if I am to regain my throne!"

"You have your army behind you and the love of your people, sire," Damrod said, " They may indeed believe you to be unconventional. The common folk love you, though, for your many kindnesses towards them."

Aragorn suddenly rose to his feet, a new light of resolve in his eyes.

" The way before now is clear at last, " he said firmly." I shall ride out then on the day of my supposed funeral and see if my people will acclaim me again as their King! I desire no bloodshed so I shall go alone. Either I regain my throne, or die in the attempt!"

TBC

**A/N There will be a slight delay before the next chapter is posted as I am revising another story.I hope it will be no longer than a week**.

_A/N Many thanks for your much appreciated comments, which have brought my total to over 1,100 reviews to my surprise and delight. The story has also passed the 100,000 word count ! I was touched that chapter 50 moved many of you so much. I love hearing your views and have replied to everyone who was logged in._


	52. Loved I not honour more

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more. --Lovelace.**

"No, Estel!" Arwen exclaimed in horror," I would rather live out my days as a beggar with you than have you risk your life in such a reckless fashion."

"Arwen," Aragorn said gently, "That is not what I promised your father. He gave you to me as my wife on the condition that I made you my Queen! Then, where should we live? We cannot stay here forever, dreading discovery more with every day that passes. I spent most of my life hiding in the shadows and will do it no longer! It is my duty to try to save my people as I am sworn in all honour to protect them!"

"We could go to the North and live at Rivendell with my brothers!" Arwen said desperately. "They would welcome us and we could live out our days happily with Eldarion."

"And if I am rejected and live to tell the tale, so we shall. If I fall though, you and the children must make your way first to Rohan and then on to Rivendell. Faramir and Eowyn can escort you."

"I shall ride with you to Minas Tirith," Faramir said firmly.

"No, you shall not!" Aragorn and Eowyn chorused almost with the same breath.

"You are not going, if I do not go with you!" Faramir said vehemently. "I have always tried to be your obedient servant, sire, but this one order I refuse to obey!"

"Yes, you were _very_ obedient when you joined the rebellion against me!" Aragorn retorted with biting sarcasm.

"Then let me try to atone!" Faramir pleaded. "What chance do you have without me?" Those who seek both your life and your crown have been proclaiming that Gondor should return to the rule of the Stewards. If King and Steward ride side by side in amity, it destroys their argument and the people are not forced to choose one or the other. We live or die together! " Faramir said quietly, "Eowyn, I am sorry but I must do this both for the King and for Gondor."

Aragorn nodded his head curtly, conceding defeat.

"Had I not our child to consider I would ride beside you," Eowyn replied. "I too would show my loyalty to my lord."

"_Your_ loyalty is not in any doubt, my lady," said Aragorn. "When you opposed me, you never pretended any false devotion towards me."

"Nor did I!" Faramir whispered in an almost inaudible tone, his head bowed.

"I will come too," Damrod offered, vainly trying to make sense of what exactly was transpiring between his King and his former Captain, who both seemed to have forgotten his presence in the room.

Aragorn started at the realisation he was present, then shook his head, "No, Damrod, I have a more important task for you here. You are to wait here with the Queen, Lady Eowyn and the children. If Lord Faramir and I do not return, you are to see them safely to Edoras, where King Eomer will help them and give them refuge.

"I will guard them with my life, sire!" Damrod replied.

"It lightens my heart to know that you will protect my loved ones!" Aragorn told him, "I would like you to stay here now. It is too dangerous for you to return to the city now that you have seen me and know my plans. If the rebels caught you and put you to torment, we would all be lost!"

"If only there were more to help us!" Arwen sighed, " Legolas and Gimli would bring Elves and dwarfs to your side, but we have no idea where they are at present. The Hobbits would fight for you too as would my brothers."

"I would have none die, save those who betrayed me!" Aragorn said firmly, some of his former determination gleaming in his eyes.

Faramir gave an involuntary shudder at his words.

" My kitten is lost!" Elbeth breathlessly ran into the room, immediately ending the adults' discussion.

"He cannot have gone far, I will help you look for him," Faramir said, glad of an excuse to escape the tense atmosphere.

Arwen and Eowyn went to tend to the babies while Aragorn questioned Damrod further about events in Minas Tirith.

Spring had come early to Ithilien. The scent of blossom hung in the air, while the birds flew from tree to tree chirping merrily as they built their nests. The sun shone brightly out of a clear blue sky adorned with fluffy white clouds. All nature seemed to be rejoicing.

Aragorn had been well enough over the past week to get dressed and sit outside in the garden. He had even taken Roheryn for short rides round the nearby fields accompanied by Faramir on Zachus. The few peasants they had encountered, were far too busy sowing their spring crops to pay any attention to two plainly dressed horsemen trotting along by the hedgerows.

That afternoon, Arwen and Eowyn sat in the orchard with their babies while Elbeth played with her kitten, which would conveniently get lost once it was tired of the game. Faramir had discovered that it had a hiding place in the barn curled up behind a bale of hay but had not revealed it to his niece; instead he told her that her playmate would return when he wanted to play again.

The Queen was hard at work at her needlework but refused to reveal to the others what it was that she was sewing.

On the evening before the funeral, Aragorn went to bed early, to rest before the next day's ordeal. Arwen was sitting with him; Elbeth was in the barn with Damrod and Bereth leaving Faramir and Eowyn in the living room together with Elestelle.

"Must you go tomorrow?" Eowyn asked her husband pleadingly. "I fear they will kill you!"

"I do not want to leave you and our daughter, my love, but maybe that would be for the best," Faramir said grimly. "At least I would die with honour!"

"Do not speak like that!" Eowyn chided." How can you say such things?"

"Do not forget that the eyes of the law and the eyes of the world, I am a traitor," Faramir said sadly." I raised my hand against the King and spoke against him in open Council. I am not above the law and Aragorn will be obliged to punish me for my deeds."

"But everything you did was to save him!" Eowyn protested.

"The law says nothing of motive," Faramir replied. "The King does not trust me and thinks I changed sides."

"That is so unfair!"Eowyn fumed, "If only the fever epidemic had not delayed him passing that law he intended to protect you with!"

" I would still have forfeited my honour and he may yet demand my life and rightly so," the Steward said quietly.

Eowyn shook her head. "No, I cannot believe he would harm you. You saved his life after all! He is too honourable a man and I believe he still loves you."

"A man, who must honour the law of Gondor, as must I. Tomorrow is my chance to regain some of my honour and I beg your blessing."

Eowyn put her arms around him and kissed him on the brow." You have my blessing as long as you promise to take care," she said.

" I promise," said Faramir.

Just then, Arwen entered with Eldarion in her arms. Her expression was deeply troubled.

"How is the King?" Faramir asked, respectfully rising to his feet.

"He is sleeping," she replied, gesturing for him to sit down and placing Eldarion in his crib, before seating herself on the chair opposite. She picked up her sewing and studied it carefully.

"I hope he has a good night's sleep," said Faramir. "It will seem like a long ride in the morning after spending so little time in the saddle of late."

"Please try to protect him tomorrow, Faramir!" Arwen pleaded, her beautiful eyes full of fear. "I know I have seem him ride off to war many times before but this feels different!"

"I will try, my lady," Faramir replied, "I would gladly give my life to save my lord!"

Eowyn shuddered though she was now resigned to why Faramir felt he must accompany the King. Were he not so loyal, he would not be the noble individual that she had married. She loved him for that loyalty, knowing it extended also towards her and their daughter, even though she feared it would make her a widow.

"Estel seems to have lost something," Arwen mused, "He is the good and honourable man that I love, but some vital spark in him seems to be missing."

"He suffered dreadfully at the hands of the rebels," Faramir said sadly, "They almost broke him completely. A lesser man would have lost his wits or died after so much torture!"

" I shared his thoughts and the horror was almost too much to bear," Arwen replied, "They took away so much of his dignity and sense of who he is!"

"Maybe we could somehow restore his sense of kingship?" Faramir suggested with a sudden flash of inspiration. "Do you not know any Elven rites, with which you could consecrate him before he rides out tomorrow?"

"We have various rites of purification," Arwen replied doubtfully, "I do not see how those could help much, though."

"He once helped me with something like that," Faramir told her, remembering how Aragorn had cleansed his sense of shame and guilt, a few months before, by bathing him with water in which athelas had been steeped.

"Gondorian coronation rituals are very lacking compared with those of Rohan!" Eowyn informed them. " Long ago, a horse would be sacrificed and the King would be bathed in the blood to symbolise the sacred marriage between the king and the land. Nowadays, we daub the good earth of Rohan on the king's hands and feet and our butter on his head to symbolise the fat of the land. Though, of course, our most sacred rite is the anointing! Eomer told me that when he believed Aragorn to be dying after the battle of the Black Gate, he anointed him and he believed that helped restore his strength."

"Anointing! That sounds a good idea. I have heard it is a means of hallowing a king." Faramir said thoughtfully.

"You are the expert at arranging ceremonies, so we will leave you to plan something for Estel tomorrow," Arwen announced sweetly," I have the royal regalia here with me that you brought when you believed him dead, so I will newly invest him with it on the morrow!"

"I shall do what I can," Faramir promised, furrowing his brow in anxiety though already he had some ideas, though whether Aragorn would like them or not, was another matter. "We will need a bath prepared for him tomorrow."

"You had best attend to him there," Arwen said, "He has become accustomed to you having to help him bathe recently."

"Would you anoint him then, my lady?" Faramir asked," As his wife and the Queen, that would be fitting."

"I think we should all do that together," Arwen replied, " For is not Eowyn of royal blood too? Then, Elbeth is of the family that were kings in all but name for almost a thousand years. Three! That is a good number, for the Elves believe that three women in different stages of life, together hold great power. We will have to find him some suitable clothes, though I fear most of them will have to be borrowed from you, Faramir."

"Perhaps Damrod would lend him his breastplate adorned with the White Tree?" Faramir suggested, yawning as he spoke." And maybe his sister still has her husband's armour somewhere?"

"It is time you rested, "Eowyn said, "We should all go to bed as tomorrow is going to be a very long day. I will speak to Damrod and Bereth."

The others agreed with her, and while Faramir and Eowyn settled down in the living room, Arwen joined her husband in the bedroom.

He still needed to sleep with a candle burning. To Arwen's keen eye, he still looked very frail and vulnerable, even though, his bodily hurts were almost healed and his hair and beard had grown back. However, she still feared for his spirit and wondered if he would ever fully recover from his ordeal, or even be granted time to do so.

She did not attempt sleep, but instead, lay there listening to him snoring and trying to imprint every detail of his beloved face upon her mind. She was determined to cherish every moment she could still spend with him.

"Valar protect him!" she whispered. She nestled close while taking care not to awaken him. 'How could I bear to lose him now?' she thought and a single tear fell on his pale cheek. Tenderly she kissed him, wishing she could keep him safe in her arms forever.

TBC

A/N

_A very big thank you to everyone who has taken the trouble to review. I have replied to everyone who was logged in. You are all greatly appreciated._

_The idea of the triple goddess is found in ancient religions, including the Teutonic, Greek and Celtic cultures as well as the ancient Middle East. It is still a popular belief amongst Pagans and represents the cycle of life or the phases of the moon._

_The British Monarch is anointed at his or her coronation and it is the most sacred part of the ceremony, based on Biblical accounts of the Kings of ancient Israel._

_I am currently busy revising "The Hidden Days of Healing" events in which Eowyn refers to in this chapter for another site, which is causing some delays to my work on this story. I have taken a break tonight to bring you a new chapter after receiving requests.. My sincere apologies to my loyal readers for the delay_.


	53. That I may greet you as King

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**And Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet have anointed him king in Gihon: and they are come up from thence rejoicing, so that the city rang again.**. **1.Kings.I. 38 The Bible.**

**So ward es uns verhiessen,  
so segne ich dein Haupt,  
als König dich zu grüssen.  
Du - Reiner!  
Mitleidvoll Duldender,  
heiltatvoll Wissender!**

**As it was promised to us,**

**Thus do I bless your head,**

**That I may greet you as King,**

**You – pure one!**

**Compassionate sufferer,**

**Enlightened Healer!- Parsifal -Wagner .Act three.**

The next morning, Aragorn appeared calm and resolute. He knew that today, would either see him restored to his rightful place or despatch him forever beyond the circles of the world. When he had awakened that morning, Arwen had begged him to let them prepare him according to ancient ritual and he had agreed. If today were to be the last time they met in this life, he would try to ease their parting by doing what he could to please her.

Breakfast was a sombre affair, with the four adults present wondering if this would be the last meal they would ever share. Only Elbeth was in high spirits, chattering incessantly and asking endless questions about where Strider and Uncle Faramir were going.

After she had fed and changed her daughter, Eowyn went to the stables to brush Roheryn and Zachus. She then plaited their manes and tails in a ceremonial fashion, feeling that this at least, was some small office that she could perform for her husband and the King.

Elbeth came out to help her and she permitted the child to assist her in grooming the placid Zachus.

"Can I go with my uncles?" she asked.

"No, you must stay and help me in the house," Eowyn told her.

"But I want to see the big city!" Elbeth protested, "Why won't they take me?"

"Your elders know what is good for you, child! We cannot all do just as we would like to!" Eowyn snapped, suddenly no longer able to endure Elbeth's prattle and afraid she might burst into tears.

Elbeth started to cry. "Why are you so cross with me?" she sniffed.

"I am just worried, child, I am sorry," Eowyn said contritely. "I wish I could go to the City to, but like you, I must stay here. There is something we can do though; Elbeth and I would like you to help us for it is very important."

Elbeth stopped crying and listened intently while her Aunt explained.

Soon after dawn, Faramir had gathered some athelas leaves at Arwen's request. He had also collected some of the earth from the bed in which it was grown in a small bowl.

Arwen meanwhile was gathering suitable garments for her husband and Faramir to wear.

As soon as breakfast was finished, Damrod and his sister filled the bathtub for the King in front of the kitchen fire. Faramir and Arwen led the King to the tub, told him, he ought to take a bath and then left him alone to undress.

Slightly puzzled why they were so insistent that he should bathe, but assuming it was in some way part of the ritual, Aragorn tried to relax in the too small tub, fearing any moment that someone would come in. He longed for the spaciousness and privacy of his large sunken bath in Minas Tirith. He wondered if ever again he would know the pleasure of stretching out his long legs in warm water scented with refreshing herbs.

Part of him wished to hearken to Arwen's pleas and go with her and Eldarion to the North, there to live out his days with his loved ones enjoying the much simpler lifestyle of the Ranger chieftains. It was tempting to leave Gondor and its treacherous lords for ever.

Yet, he could never abandon his people to oppression and hardship, nor give in to traitors who sought to usurp his throne. He had not fought against Sauron to skulk again in the wilderness .Nor would he lightly abandon the conditions Elrond had laid upon him before taking his daughter as bride.

He heard someone come in and stiffened, covering himself with his arms as best he could, wishing fervently he had left his towel where he could reach it.

To his relief it was Faramir and not one of the four females in the house.

"Your Lady and I, would hallow you today to prepare you to once more take up your mantle of kingship!" the Steward said solemnly, making Aragorn struggle to repress a wry smile. It was so like the Faramir of old to want to invest every moment with ceremony. Knowing it could well be for the last time, he decided to humour him.

"Will you stand please, sire?" Faramir said formally.

Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Aragorn uncoiled his cramped body and rather inelegantly rose to his feet.

"Be thou blessed with Gondor's good earth!" the Steward intoned, scattering a handful of earth over his shoulders and then pouring a bowl of water over him crying, "Be thou cleansed with this hallowed herb! "

Aragorn recognised the refreshing scent of athelas and felt heartened by it.

"I will prepare you now, my lord." Faramir bowed low and waited while a somewhat baffled King to climbed out of the bathtub. The Steward was waiting to wrap him in towels. When he was dried, Faramir slid a loose linen robe over his head and knotted it securely with a cord around his waist. What he thought at first, to justbe one of the borrowed nightshirts he had been wearing, on closer examination proved to be embroidered with the emblems of Gondor and Arnor.

" Come!" said Faramir.

Aragorn followed his Steward into the next room. Faramir hesitated on the threshold wondering whether or not he should remain.

"Stay, son of Gondor, who hailed me first as King!" Aragorn commanded.

A bowl of clear water stood on the table, surrounded by three lit candles, a vase containing some sprigs of athelas knife, a goblet of wine, a bowl with some soil in it, the Elessar;and to his amazement, Anduril and the Star of Elendil.

Arwen, Elbeth and Eowyn were waiting for him and Arwen gestured he should kneel. The babies slept in their cradles blissfully unaware of the preparations surrounding them.

"When my father and Mithrandir sailed, they took with them the old magic," Arwen said, "Now we who are left, must create a magic of our own."

She unlaced the robe at the neck, and with Eowyn's help; slid it from his shoulders, leaving him bared to the waist. He felt painfully exposed thus, with so many eyes on his cruelly scarred body. The room suddenly felt very cold and he trembled slightly.

Arwen came and knelt before him. She had a small bottle in her hand and dabbed some of the contents of Aragorn's head. It appeared to be some sort of oil, which smelled of a mixture of orange, roses and cinnamon.

"Be thy head anointed with kingly wisdom!" she said solemnly." I, the wise woman of the elder race, bless you!"

Eowyn knelt beside him, and, taking the oil, dabbed some over his heart. "Be thou anointed with compassion and love!" she intoned." I, the mother, bless you!"

Elbeth then dabbed the oil on his hands, saying; "Be thou anointed with prowess and honour!" I, the maiden, bless you!"

Finally, Faramir took his turn and dabbed oil on his feet, "Be thou anointed with valour and courage!" he said.

What had begun, as a mixture of the embarrassing and the absurd became a strangely moving experience for Aragorn. A feeling of warmth enveloped him, while a new strength coursed through his veins. He rose to his feet blinking back the tears when his wife and friends then knelt before him with the candles and the bowls of earth and water.

"May the Valar protect you through trials of fire and air!" said Arwen who held the candles. "I the eldest hallow you!"

"May the Valar protect you through trials of earth!" Eowyn said, as she knelt with her offering of soil from the garden. " I, the mother hallow you!"

"May the Valar protect you through trials of water!" Elbeth said solemnly as he presented the water. "I, the maiden, hallow you!"

Arwen then placed both hands on her husband's chest while Faramir stood behind him with both hands on his back and together they recited several Elvish spells of protection over the man they both loved, albeit in very different ways.

Arwen then led Eowyn and Elbeth from the room while Faramir led his lord over to the couch, on which a variety of garments were laid. The Steward took up the knife, causing Aragorn to flinch involuntarily. With a swift movement, he severed the cord securing Aragorn's robe. " Cast off the man of old, become the King anew!" he cried as the garment fell to the floor.

He then went outside to join the women, shaking his head slightly, as he did so. Aragorn appeared so frail and vulnerable despite the new fire that now blazed in his eyes. The open wounds had closed but left livid and angry looking scars in their wake and while the broken finger and thumb had knitted, his left hand still looked sore and swollen.

The King hurriedly drew on his drawers, embroidered by Arwen with the White Tree, to cover his nakedness, then reached for his shirt and discovered that Arwen had made him a sleeveless undershirt from one of her silk nightgowns. He smiled at her thoughtfulness as he donned it next to his skin, followed by a linen shirt and woollen breeches.

He started as the others re entered the room but made no protest when Arwen and Eowyn then slowly finished dressing him, blessing each garment in turn and evoking the protection of the Valar.

Faramir had willingly lent a fine tunic made of dark wool, Damrod had provided his leather breastplate emblazoned with the white tree, while Arwen contributed one of her own cloaks made of black velvet and trimmed with ermine.

Arwen then fixed the Star of Elendil upon her husband's brow, Eowyn pinned the Elessar on his breast and then finally the Queen knelt and girded Anduril at his waist.

They stood back and surveyed their handiwork. Once again, Aragorn looked every inch the King that he rightfully was.

Faramir instinctively knelt in homage to his lord, offering his sword. He felt unworthy to speak the oath of Gondor and used instead an oath he had learned from his wife. "I Faramir, by my Lord's grace Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, do again pledge my self to become your liege man of life and limb; and faith and truth I will bear unto you, to live and die, against all manner of folks. May the Valar bear witness !"

"So may it be!" Aragorn replied.

Eowyn nodded to Elbeth and whispered in her ear. The little girl fetched the goblet and offered it to the King.He took a draught. To conclude the ritual, the others drank from it too.

Too overwhelmed to speak, Aragorn embraced his wife and then kissed Eowyn and Elbeth on the brow.

Arwen smiled bravely as she fought back the anguish of the coming parting. She had seen Aragorn ride of to war many times before, but this felt far worse and although she concealed it, the cruel marks he still bore on his body distressed her greatly.

"It is time we were leaving!" Aragorn said, not wanting to prolong the misery of the farewells. He went to where his son was sleeping and kissed the soft cheek before laying a hand on his head in blessing.

"I am ready," Faramir said," I just need my cloak."

"Just one moment!" said Arwen, retreating to the bedroom and re emerging a moment later with a silk shirt nearly identical to the one her husband was wearing.

"I have made this for you to wear today," she said.

"I thank you, my lady

" And Bereth has agreed to give you her husband's breastplate," Eowyn added. "Come, put them on!"

Faramir sighed, pulled off his tunic and started to put the silk shirt on, on top of the linen one he was already wearing.

"No, next to your skin!" Eowyn, " Go and change into it or I will dress you myself! Be sure to pull it down well so it covers your belly."

Wishing she were not quite so outspoken, Faramir went to change followed by Eowyn leaving Aragorn and Arwen to make their farewells.

"Take care, beloved!" Arwen whispered, trying hard to maintain her composure. She wanted her husband's last memory of her as he rode away to be a happy one.

"Remember, if I do not return, to take Eldarion to Rohan for safety. Eowyn and Damrod will be with you," he instructed her.

" I could not live without you!" she choked, her composure faltering.

"You must! We have our son's welfare to consider; promise me vanimelda, that you will do as I say!" Aragorn begged her.

" I will try, my love, my hope. I beg you though to take care!" Arwen pleaded.

"I give you my word. I would reign again with you at my side. I hope I will be able to send you tidings by tomorrow sundown at the latest. Remember, if you hear nothing, go and seek help from Eomer. He will escort you safely to Rivendell."

He pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely. He felt almost as worried as he had been before riding out to confront Sauron. Yet, he had returned from that seemingly hopeless mission. Maybe there was still hope, for the few thousand men he had with him then seemed just as absurdly minuscule a force, as to face the rebel lords with only Faramir at his side.

" I wish you would stay here with me and Elestelle, " Eowyn said sadly, securing her husband's breastplate." Yet, if you did not have such a sense of loyalty and duty, you would not be the man I fell in love with! Keep both yourself and Aragorn safe, as I know you will either return or die together! I only wish I could come with you both!"

"Take care of our daughter and the Queen if I do not return!" Faramir said gravely. "Dearest and best of wives, I bid you farewell!"

"Do not throw your life away rashly!" Eowyn pleaded." I am certain that Aragorn still loves you deep in his heart. He will come to understand you acted as you did for his sake alone."

Not trusting himself to speak, Faramir held her close. He tenderly kissed her and Elestelle, who regarded him solemnly from Eowyn's arms. Then he abruptly turned and made his way outside

TBC

_A/N A very grateful thank you to everyone who has taken the time and trouble to review I truly appreciate each and every comment. I have replied to everyone who was logged in. _

_From now on, I have very little already existing in draft form, so updates may take a little longer. I do, however, have the story complete in my head. _

_I have taken the rituals from various parts of the world and my own imagination. Some of the words used in the anointing and Faramir's oath, come from the coronation rituals used for the coronation of our Queen._

_The reason that the anointing takes place under a canopy,is because in the Middle Ages,the monarch would have been bare to the waist for the ritual.The canopy shielded them from the gaze of the public.It is retained now to emphasise the sacredness of the moment._


	54. Behold, thy King cometh unto thee

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee: - The Bible- Zechariah – 9.9**

**Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,  
for your King shall come again,  
and he shall dwell among you  
all the days of your life. Tolkien- The Return of the King**

**Fields of our hearts that dead and bare have been:  
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green. – John Crum**

_With grateful thanks to Raksha for all her help with this chapter._

Arwen and Eowyn stood in the doorway clutching their babies. Together with Elbeth, they watched until the two riders disappeared over the horizon.

The King and Steward rode away resolutely. They dared not look back, lest they be tempted to retrace their steps. The beauty of the spring morning gradually lightened their hearts. They beheld the sun shining out of a near cloudless sky, bathing the fresh green fields and blossom-laden trees in its golden rays. Despite the dangers they knew might be ahead, it was impossible not enjoy being in the saddle on such a morning, especially after weeks of virtual confinement in the farmhouse.

When Aragorn and Faramir reached the next village, they initially attracted little attention. The peasants were toiling in the fields, too concerned with the spring planting to pay heed to passing travellers. But then a young woman, carrying a bucket and obviously on her way to the village well, noticed them as they rode past her.

They heard her calling excitedly, "It's the King! He's not dead! The rumours from the City were lies!" She put down the pail and stooped to gather a handful of blossoms, which she threw in their path. "Long live the King!" she cried.

Several of the men working in the fields, came to see what she was shouting about and called to their neighbours. Aragorn and Faramir looked behind them and were surprised to find a group of sturdy farmers struggling to keep up with the horses.

They slowed down to a trot and Aragorn addressed the men, "Good men of Gondor, evil men would usurp my throne! Will you come with me to see justice done? I must warn you, though that you may encounter great perils ere this day is over! "

"Long live King Elessar!" cried the men in unison, "We will follow you wherever you lead!"

As they passed through more villages, more and more men joined them while the women and children threw flowers.

Aragorn's spirits rose with every mile they travelled .He was greatly surprised that his people held him in such esteem and it warmed his heart to see their love. He had feared their reaction to seeing him, lest they thought him to be an unquiet spirit. It seemed that in these outlying villages, news from Minas Tirith was not well heeded, even though the Citywas less than half a day's journey away from these enclaves

Some of his people called out to him of their gratitude in saving them from Sauron or healing their children of the fever. Others told how the lords were oppressing them, taking their crops, molesting the women. They begged the King to help them.

"If this day sees me restored to my throne, you have my word that you will have justice for your wrongs!"Aragorn cried in a clear voice to the cheers of the crowd.

When they reached the river, they briefly dismounted to let the horses drink. Faramir led Zachus to the water and stood there with downcast eyes while the bay gelding drank deeply.

Aragorn watched him surreptitiously, wishing fervently he knew what the younger man was thinking. Would he ever know his true motivation? Despite the enthusiasm of the peasants that followed them, they would be heavily outnumbered if Damrod had misjudged the loyalty of the armed forces stationed in Minas Tirith. Many of those men had served Denethor and might choose to follow the House of Hurin rather than the House of Telcontar.

Moreover, could he truly count on the Steward's loyalty? Faramir's conduct had been exemplary since he had awoken in the cave, yet the image of his Steward coldly striking him, followed soon after by the branding, would be forever seared into his memory.

He had never believed his good, gentle natured Steward could hold such darkness within his soul. Aragorn had thought that he knew Denethor's son as well as any man could know another. Yet, Faramir had changed into a cruel stranger who had mocked and tormented him. And Faramir still offered no explanation for his conduct, even when they had been alone together in the dungeon, he had continued to act the traitor.

Was Faramir still playing some complicated game of deception? On the other hand, was he still the honourable young man whom he had come to love as a son? Part of him yearned to reach out to Faramir and embrace him, lest this was the last chance they would ever have, to be reconciled in this life.

He took a step towards him, then hesitated. How could he reach out to the man who had made no attempt to justify the cruelty that had almost broken Aragorn's heart? Yet, Faramir had sworn himself again to his service, albeit with a Rohirric oath.

Faramir looked up and briefly met his eyes.

"It is not to too late for you to change your mind and return to Eowyn," Aragorn said, not even sure himself, whether he made the offer to test Faramir's loyalty, or to save his life.

"I am resolved to follow you this day, whether or not I live to see the end of it," Faramir replied without hesitation.

Aragorn almost extended his hand, then shaking his head slightly, somewhat awkwardly mounted Roheryn. The scar tissue that so disfigured his body still made movement painful.

Faramir did likewise, grimacing at the twinge in his back when he swung himself astride Zachus. His heart was close to breaking at the lack of any kindly word or gesture from the one he loved so dearly and held in such high regard. Yet, he knew he could expect none, and the best he could now hope for, was to die with honour in battle.

They rode on in silence until they passed through the Rammas Echor and reached the Pelennor. Today, the town lands were filled with crowds of people making their way to the city. Faramir stopped and reined Zachus in, hoping the horse would not be spooked by the vast throng. The horse snorted, but showed no sigh of panic, much to his relief.

An old woman had been watching his attempts to quieten his horse. She then caught sight of the King and cried out in fear before dropping in a dead faint.

Aragorn hesitated, instinctively wanting to go to her aid but fearing he would only make matters worse. Fortunately, a younger woman and a man, who appeared to be her family, went to her assistance. The man then noticed Aragorn and cried out, "This cannot be, the dead cannot return! What manner of evil wizardry is this?"

A child, obviously too young to be afraid shouted, "We are on our way to your funeral, Lord King! Are you coming too?"

The crowd started to scream and panic at the seeming apparition in their midst.

Aragorn wheeled Roheryn around and faced the crowd, such as a general would address his troops."Good people of Gondor!" he cried, "Be not afraid! The man they burytoday is not I, but a victim of a plot to seize my throne! He was dressed in my clothes and murdered while I was imprisoned by those who would overthrow me! Come with me to the City so that I can take my rightful place amongst you again as your King!"

The crowd gaped in astonishment at Aragorn's words and muttered amongst themselves, unsure whether or not to believe him.

"I bear the tokens of my house!" Aragorn cried and brandished Anduril, which gleamed in the spring sunlight, "Here is the sword of Elendil! Behold, I wear the Elfstone and bear the star of Elendil upon my brow!"

"You could be a phantom sent to lead us astray!" one woman said doubtfully," Those who die violently can return to torment the living, it is said!"

"I am no spectre!" Aragorn replied," But if you do not believe me, good lady, come and touch me .You will know then, that I am as much flesh and blood as you are!"

The woman backed away;but a youth of about fourteen years came forward, " Prove you are not a ghost!" he challenged.

Aragorn drew off his gauntlet and offered the boy his right hand. Hesitantly the youth touched it, at first tentatively, tracing his fingers along the heavily scarred wrist, then gradually with more confidence. Aragorn reached out and grasped the youth's hand firmly. The boy kissed the King's hand reverently, then fell on his knees." My Lord King!" he exclaimed, " I beg you to forgive my doubts. I know now it is you indeed! The Valar be praised!"

A little girl then joined them, looking at Aragorn in bewilderment. Smiling, he leaned down to her and offered her his hand. She trustingly clasped the large fingers in her small ones.

A loud cheer went up from the crowd." The King has returned, long live King Elessar! The Valar have blessed us this day!"

Faramir observed the scene and his heart soared. He knew this Aragorn, every inch a King, radiating confidence and majesty.

The people then noticed the Steward's presence and started muttering amongst themselves again. One man, bolder than the rest came forward and said, "Have a care, my King, they say that Lord Faramir spoke against you in open council on many occasions, reviling you and your Queen!"

Before Aragorn could react, the man had melted back into the crowd who started to call out, "Traitor, traitor!"

Faramir tried to ignore them though every shout pierced his soul to the core. He felt something hit him and realised the crowd were throwing clods of earth at him to show their disgust. He sat like a statue, concentrating on soothing Zachus, even when a well-aimed handful of mud, caught him on the side of the face.

"Peace, good people!" Aragorn said in a loud voice. "Today, Lord Faramir is at my side once more."

The crowd subsided at Aragorn's words but still cast baleful glances at the Steward. He was relieved that they had almost arrived at their destination.

When they reached the City Gates, they found that the guards were waving most of the people past, only stopping obvious drunkards and other miscreants.

To Aragorn and Faramir's delight, they recognised Lamrung, as one of the men on duty. He had formerly been a prison warder, but after he had helped Aragorn rescue Faramir from the City Prison, he had been rewarded with a post as a Citadel Guard.

When he caught sight of the King he turned pale and looked as if he were about to faint.

"Fear not, Lamrung!" Aragorn told him, "It is I, King Elessar! I am flesh and blood just as you are."

"But we are holding your funeral today, sire!" Lamrung gasped.

"Reports of my death have been somewhat exaggerated," Aragorn said grimly, " Now I should like to enter my City! Perhaps you could despatch a message to Prince Imrahil and tell him that I have returned?"

"Of course, sire! It is good to see that you are still alive, sire!"

"It does indeed feel good to _be_ alive!" Aragorn replied, smiling at the young man.

Still accompanied by the crowd, which seemed to increase with every step the horses took; Aragorn and Faramir wound their way through the narrow streets until they came to the seventh level where they dismounted, giving their horses into the care of a Citadel Guard.

On the lawn between the White Tower and the White Tree stood a black draped bier, on which rested, a coffin draped with an elaborate banner bearing the Royal Crestof the line of Elendil; the White Tree surrounded by seven stars and seven stones.

A Guard of Honour encircled the bier in full ceremonial dress, their high-winged helmets glinting in the sunlight. The guards were masked, a custom which Aragorn had abolished soon after taking the throne. It seemed that changes had already been made in his absence.

Behind them on the steps stood the Lords of Gondor, all robed in black and wearing suitably solemn expressions. The members of the Council were foremost; and Aragorn and Faramir took especial note of the Lords of Lebennin and Ringlo Vale, who made a great show of dabbing their eyes. Fontos of Lossarnach looked pale and distraught, like a man who has not slept soundly for many long nights.

To one side of the bier stood a raised platform; erected for outland dignitaries. A distressed looking King Eomer of Rohan was the most notable, tallest and fairest among them, and surrounded by two of his Marshalls and some twenty of his warriors, unhelmed and bearing sombre expressions. Aragorn noticed Ghan-buri-Ghan and several other Woses from Druadan Forest, and about ten Silvan Elves from Ithilien, as well as a similar number of Dwarves from Aglarond. There was no sign of Legolas or Gimli, nor any of Thranduil's Elves, nor Dalesmen. Representatives from the Shire and Rivendell were absent. Elladan and Elrohir and the Dunedain of Arnor were conspicuous by their absence. It seemed that the funeral been arranged too hastily to summon folk from the North, or had the traitors opposed attempts to invite more of the King's friends and kin?

On the bier's other side, the families of the lords of Gondor were seated. Aragorn's keen eyes made out Hanna, conspicuous by her low-cut neckline, which made her simple black gown look more suitable for a ball than for a funeral.

A sorrowful and careworn Imrahil, his sons beside him, stood ready to preside over the ceremonies. From his demeanour, it appeared that no message had yet reached him.

Hoping the traitorous lords and their allies would somehow by their actions betray themselves. Aragorn decided to bide his time. After telling Faramir his decisionhe indicated to the crowd that they should wait.

TBC

_A/N A very grateful thank you to all my readers for your much appreciated comments. I enjoy reading them all. I have replied to everyone who was logged in._

_I wish all my readers a joyous Easter, Passover or springtime, whichever you choose to celebrate_._This chapter is a little earlier as my Easter gift to you all._


	55. Frustrate their knavish tricks

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**Warning – This chapter contains violence and may distress sensitive readers**

**O Lord our God arise,  
Scatter her enemies  
And make them fall;  
Confound their politics,  
Frustrate their knavish tricks,  
On Thee our hopes we fix,  
Oh, save us all! - British National anthem**

_**With grateful thanks to Raksha, who helped me a great deal with this chapter and wrote a considerable part of it. Also thanks to Julia for her support and helpful suggestions.**_

Beckoning to his followers to be silent, Aragorn and Faramir melted into the crowd. Pulling up their hoods to veil their faces, they found a vantage point behind a pillar, from which they could see everything, while remaining unobserved from the platform.

Imrahil must have noticed the excited and cheerful demeanour from some sections of the crowd. He shot them a stern and disapproving stare, which failed to remove the joyous smiles from their faces.

The musicians of the Tower Guard blew a mournful dirge on their silver trumpets and silence fell upon the crowd.

"People of Gondor, we are gathered here together on a sad day for us all," Imrahil began. "Our beloved King Elessar has been taken from us his prime. This is indeed a dark hour for our beloved land that these things should come to pass. We were blessed to have beheld one who shone before us like the sun in splendour. Now again, we are in darkness, the glory of the heir of Elendil has been taken from us. On this day, however, let us remember our liege, Aragorn Arathornion Elessar Telcontar.

He led us to victory over the Dark Lord and brought healing in his hands to so many. Truly, he restored the glory of Gondor, though for all too brief a time! Today we are gathered together to pay tribute to our late lord."

Eomer was weeping now, as if his noble heart would break. Many of the common folk wept too, ignorant still that their King was there amongst them.

The members of the Council silently filed to take their places beside Imrahil who continued, "Today, we shall lay our beloved King Elessar to rest besides his ancestors in the Rath Dinen. May the Valar grant him bliss beyond the circles of this world! The King is dead, long live the King!"

"But, alas, we have no King!" Dervorin of Ringlo Vale interrupted, "Prince Eldarion has not been seen for months now and extensive efforts have failed to find him. And he is a mere infant; too young to take the throne.Since the people are all gathered here today, I thinkit would be a good time to inform them that until a new king be found, the Council will rule in his stead!"

Imrahil looked annoyed at the interruption. "I am acting leader of the Council unless the Queen decree otherwise, my lord, and I say that we shall await Queen Arwen's word regarding who shall act as her son's regent before doing any such thing."

"Pah!" Dervorin exclaimed rudely. "We all know she has vanished without trace and how the Steward, Lord Faramir cuts his jib these days. That is, when he is even here. Has he even bothered to leave word of when he will return while this land lies leaderless?"

"We all appreciate your loyalty to the House of Telcontar; My Lord Imrahil, but for how long can Gondor be left without a ruler?" Meneldil, the Lord of Lebennin said, coming forward to stand beside the Prince of Dol Amroth. "We should tell these good people that we shall rule over them until a King return, or maybe an heir to the Stewardship if he does not!"

"Have you no sense of decency?" Imrahil countered sternly. "Our Queen has not finished the mourning rites of her people. We need not disturb her until those rites are done, as well as this sad rite we perform today. And the only heir in the direct line of the House of Hurin is an infant girl."

"But where _is_ Queen Arwen?" protested Dervorin, " We cannot leave our beloved land waiting on the whims of an Elf and her half-breed son!"

A shocked gasp went up from the crowd at such dire insults to the royal family.

"Silence!" Imrahil thundered.

"We are pleased to tell you, my good people, that Lord Boromir was secretly married and sired a son and heir!" the Lord of Lebennin announced, ignoring Imrahil.

"What, my cousin had another hidden heir?" Imrahil's son Elphir interjected. "Just a few weeks ago, you spoke of a girl-child born in wedlock. How curious that Boromir never mentioned these children to his own family, much less his marriages to their mothers."

At that moment Hanna, furiously strode from her place beside the Lord of Lossarnach's wife protesting loudly, "_My _daughter is Lord Boromir's rightful heir!"

"Hush, woman! You will ruin everything!" Dervorin hissed, "Your daughter is nowhere to be found whereas we have the boy."

"You promised my daughter would be queen, you lying scoundrel! I will not be quiet!" She laughed wildly and lashed out at him with her fists, the light of madness in her eyes as she refused to be silenced.

"Witless trull!" Dervorin yelled, then shoved the enraged woman with such force that she fell at his feet, her feet entangling in the folds of her gown.

"My lord, this is an outrage! "Imrahil complained, "We are honouring the dead! This is not the time to decide who shall rule Gondor. "

"It has _been _decided. I your rightful King, Elessar Telcontar, son of Arathorn, heir of Elendil, bearer of the Sword that was Broken, victorious in battle, have returned to claim what is _mine_!" Aragorn finally came forward, brandishing Anduril. Faramir followed a few steps behind him. The Star of Elendil gleamed on the King's brow and his eyes burned like flame. In a firm and commanding voice, he ordered: "Arrest Dervorin of Ringlo Vale, Meneldil of Lebennin, and Fontos of Lossarnach, for murder most foul, and acts of abduction and assault upon their King!"

The four who had formed the Guard of Honour drew their swords at their King's word and came forward to take hold of the Lords of Ringlo Vale and Lebennin. Confusion flared as the lords' families, supporters and men-at-arms struggled and cried out in rage.

Screams rang out, and several women fainted, both in fear of the commotion and horror at the return of a King they believed dead. Imrahil stood there dumbfounded, hardly able to believe his own eyes. He blinked hard, wondering if this were some apparition and then paled as he realized it was not. Eomer gave a cry of joy and leapt to his feet.

"What is the meaning of this?" Imrahil asked in bewilderment.

"Uncle, it is I,and our Lord King who was not slain as we all believed!" Faramir called urgently, "Hold all the traitors before they escape!"

"I have no nephew," Imrahil said coldly. He still looked bewildered but called to his men to assist Aragorn.

Eomer drew his sword and ran forward. "Aragorn, my friend, you live!" he cried, "This is indeed a joyous day!"

With the Rohirrim now accompanying him, Aragorn, Faramir and Eomer advanced upon the rebel lords and their men and arrested them. Imrahil stood as if rooted to the spot, hardly able to believe the sudden turn of events.

Hanna apparently forgotten, struggled to her feet and then turned on Dervorin once more. "_My_ daughter should rule!" she repeated." How many times did you promise me that when you lay in my arms? "She started to pummel him furiously with her fists.

"Fontos, help me!" Dervorin pleaded to his son-in-law, who, still free, hovered uncertainly in the background.

Fontos hesitated for a moment. Then he turned his back on Dervorin and threw himself at Aragorn's feet.

"I am sorry, my Lord King. I wronged you," he cried. "It was all a lie!" Fontos looked up at the other Council members, and said, as loudly but more clearly: "My lords of the realm, and my Lord King, the claim of the woman Hanna to have married Lord Boromir is false. I forged my father's hand on the marriage document, at the urging of my kinsman Dervorin of Ringlo Vale. The child Elbeth may be Boromir's daughter, but she is not his lawful heir. Nor did Boromir ever wed anyone. The boy, we found in an orphanage. We conspired falsely, so as to seize the throne by marrying the young lass to the King's heir. I am guilty as well, and surrender myself to the King's justice." He quieted, and bowed his head in shame.

A contingent of Imrahil's Swan Knights had appeared, apparently by Elphir's command. They approached Aragorn and bowed their heads to him.

"Thank you, Elphir." Aragorn said. "By your leave, Imrahil?" he asked, looking at Imrahil, who nodded. "Escort the Lord Fontos to the Hospitality Room and guard him well and apart from all others." Aragorn commanded the Swan Knights. "See that he is not harmed and does not harm himself. I will deal with him later." Four of the swan-plumed knights took Fontos and raised him, then, escorted the disgraced lord toward the Royal apartments.

Somehow, during the commotion Dervorin had managed to break free. He bolted, dodging and elbowing through the crowd of confused mourners, his men pushing others aside to clear his way. Hanna, Aragorn, Faramir and a crowd of Tower Guards, Swan Knights, Rohirrim and several hundred Gondorians chased the traitor, tempers rising in their pursuit.When Dervorin reached the White Tower, he realised he could go no further. The door was blocked, and six scowling guards stood before it.

Faramir led a company of guards toward the cornered traitor"You will pay for your deeds with a traitor's death," he said coldly. "It is your choice whether you do so now or after a trial."

"I am surprised at you, Lord Faramir, " Dervorin purred. "No one was more vocal in their support of our cause than you. If I die, the secret of your brother's true heir dies with me!"

"My Elbeth is the true heir!" Hanna protested from somewhere behind Faramir. Then she wriggled out of the crowd of people behind the guards, and scurried to Dervorin's side. " You said if I pretended Lord Boromir married me that I would have everything I could hope for!"

"Silence, you lying whore!" Dervorin spat.

Hanna's only reply was to slap him across the face. Before anyone could stop him, Devorin pushed her forward so that she was impaled upon the point of Faramir's drawn sword.

Hanna gave a strangled moan, while Faramir, horrified, tried to stop her falling any further on the blade. However, she was already dead, her blood spilling on the tower steps.

"Take the Lord of Ringlo Vale into secure custody," Aragorn ordered." Then take the woman away and bury her beside her father the Porter, loyal servant to the House of Hurin." Despite all that he had suffered at the hands of this woman, it sickened him to see her slaughtered like a savage dog by the man who had been her lover. She had borne a courageous and noble child to Aragorn's fallen comrade. Perhaps, she had once been as good-hearted as Elbeth. He vowed that Elbeth would be protected and well-reared, free of her mother's legacy of hate.

Sighing, Aragorn turned and surveyed the scène. The fighting had diminished; though he still had to fell three of Dervorin's armed retainerswith Anduril. However, Imrahil's Swan Knights, and the Tower Guard had surrounded the area; and were making their way through the crowd of ambassadors and genuine mourners.

"He was behind it all, your Steward!" Dervorin snarled at Aragorn as two tall Guardsmen took him by the arms, "No one denounced you more loudly than he did! Fight men, fight for your lives!"

Dervorin's retainers joined in the fray with renewed vigour.

"Seize all the traitors! Justice must be done!" Aragorn shouted, as he despatched another miscreant. Beside him, Faramir was engaged in fighting off two burly men in the livery of Lebennin. Eomer had joined in the fray and was hacking down a particularly defiant, and now unfortunate, liege-man of Ringlo Vale. Behind him, Imrahil, who had now collected himself, faced Lebennin's lord, battling with sword and dagger in a graceful dance of steel.

Reinforcements poured in from all sides and suddenly the battle was over.

"Hail to King Elessar! Our King has returned and Gondor is again under his rule!" Imrahil shouted, raising his blade high in the air. Meneldil of Lebennin slumped to the ground, panting and bloodied, but alive.

Faramir smiled. Aragorn's gamble had paid off and his throne was restored. He was about to kneel to his rightful lord when something caught his eye from atop the Tower of Ecthelion. Just the barest gleam of silver, a faint line glinting in the bright sunlight - he realised that it was an arrow intended for his King!

"Look out!" he shouted, but it was too late as the arrow was already taking its deadly path towards his King.

Instinctively, Faramir threw himself in front of Aragorn, shielding him with his own body.

The arrow pierced his flesh and he sank to the ground, landing with a dull thud on the stone steps.

"Faramir! No!" Aragorn cried heedless of all around them, as his Steward crumpled and lay seemingly lifeless at his lord's feet, an arrow protruding from his chest.

_A/N A very grateful thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I was thrilled at the response it received. I have replied to everyone who is logged in._

_Apologies for the delay, but as the story gradually draws towards its conclusion, it is becoming increasingly complex to write._

_I hope today's chapter will be appropriate for the birthday of our Queen. _

_I have added an extra and unexpected chapter to "At the Rising of the Moon"._


	56. And the king was much moved

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain_

**And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Ab'salom! my son, my son Ab'salom! Would God I had died for thee, O Ab'salom, my son, my son! - The Bible. 2Samuel 18.33**

**With grateful thanks to Raksha for her help with this chapter and to Julia for all her support.**

Guards clustered around Aragorn, raising their shields and forming a protective circle to protect him against any further archer's assault.

The King was dimly aware of a commotion in the background as Eomer and his men pursued the would be assassin. He could concentrate on nothing save the crumpled man at his feet

He tried to steel himself to feel for a pulse but not bring himself to confirm that Faramir's heart was no longer beating.

His Steward had betrayed him and most cruelly. Yet he had loved him as a son, and despite everything, that love still lay buried deep in his heart. He was angry with Faramirand wanted to punish him, not though by having him die like this, sprawled at his feet like a child's broken doll, his life forfeited in exchange for his King's.

How could the Valar be so cruel to take one he had loved so dearly and been through so much together with, in his moment of triumph? The sweet taste of victory turned to ashes in his mouth as he felt his heart would most surely break. How could he tell Eowyn that she was a widow, and what of poor Elestelle, doomed to grow up never having known her father?

Sinking to his knees, he clasped Faramir in his arms.

For once heedless of the people watching, he could not hide his grief and a tear fell unbidden, falling on to Faramir's ashen features.

The Steward blinked and slowly opened his eyes.

"You are alive!" Aragorn exclaimed

For a moment, Faramir's eyes met his. The Steward saw love reflected in the King's concerned gaze, the love he feared that he had forfeited forever. He could die happy now, secure in the knowledge of that love, and that by giving his life, he had atoned for the evil he had done. He closed his eyes again as stars blurred his vision. Footsteps approached and he became aware of unfamiliar hands prodding him.

"Is the wound mortal?" That voice was his uncle's.

"I think not. His heart beats strongly. I believe he was stunned when he fell," Aedred's voice replied.

Faramir remembered now seeing him in the crowd of mourners. The Healer's words brought him no comfort. His decision to throw himself in front of Aragorn had been purely instinctive, born out of love for his King. If it had cost him his life, he would have least regained some of the honour he had lost.

"I see," the coldness in his uncle's voice, suggested that Imrahil still believed him adisgrace to his family, as did the hissing and chattering amongst the crowd.

Aragorn, who still supported Faramir, felt an overwhelming sense of relief. His Steward's unselfish act had undoubtedly saved his life. Or was it as unselfish as it seemed? The doubts came flooding back. He remembered how only a few months before, Faramir had hoped to die of his wounds rather than endure the traitor's death he wrongly believed he would be sentenced to. Was he again seeking to die, this time by an honourable soldier's death?

"Where shall we take him, my lord?" Aedred's voice interrupted his reverie.

Aragorn was at first tempted to order them to take Faramir to his own rooms where he had tended him after Mahrod's cruel assault on him. However, then Faramir had been his closest and truest friend. Also, he had no way of knowing if his healing supplies were still there even and the room would be damp and chill, most likely.

"Take Lord Faramir to the Houses of Healing!" he ordered.

Faramir struggled to sit up but was restrained by the King's grip on him.

"Lie still, you are injured!" Aragorn ordered curtly.

"As my lord commands," Faramir replied. He coughed and cried out in pain. He was unsure whether he imagined it or not, but Aragorn's supporting touch seemed to ease it. Then, he was taken from his grasp by two burly guards and laid upon a stretcher.

"Take him away! I will join you shortly. I desire to see the wound myself," said Aragorn in an emotionless tone.

The guards took Faramir away, leaving Aragorn with the still bewildered looking Imrahil. "I was imprisoned and some poor wretch murdered, dressed in my clothes and flung into the Anduin, " he explained to the Prince of Dol Amroth. "Faramir rescued me from the clutches of the miscreants and took me to where my Queen and the Lady Eowyn were hiding to recover from the wounds I had sustained. I heard tidings that my 'funeral' was to be held today and came to reclaim my throne. I thank you, my friend, for holding the City for me! I must go now to see how Faramir fares!"

Imrahil helped his lord to his feet and Aragorn promptly enfolded him in a tight embrace then kissed him on the brow.

"What of Faramir?" the Prince of Dol Amroth enquired, hope alight in his eyes. "He spoke evil words against you in open Council. I truly believed he had gone over to the rebels and shamedboth the great Houses of Dol Amroth and Hurin. His father always suspected he was capable of disloyalty to his liege lord, should a clash of interests arise. These past months, I have come to believe he might well have been right, alas. He appeared to be loyal to no man save himself! Or could I have been mistaken?"

"Queen Arwen ordered him to gain the rebels' confidence in order to discover my whereabouts," Aragorn replied.

"Why did he not confide in me?" Imrahil said in a voice both hurt and bewildered, more to himself than the King. "Faramir does not lie."

"Why indeed? There are many questions that need to be answered," the King said grimly.

What will become of him now?" asked Imrahil.

"That is not yet decided," Aragorn replied.

Just then, Eomer arrived followed by his men dragging the corpse of a man dressed in the livery of Ringlo Vale. One Rohir carried a now battered bow, which had apparently loosed the arrow "Aragorn, dear friend, I thought I had lost you!" Eomer exclaimed, throwing his arms around him and hugging so tightly that his still healing body flinched, "Aewulf here, brought down the man who would have killed you! He was about to loose another arrow when Aewulf's throwing knife felled him with a well-aimed blow to the groin. Still he reached for his weapons, so my men finished him off before he could do more damage. Have you any tidings of Eowyn and my niece? Dare I hope that they might live too? I have been so worried. I heard nothing for weeks because of the fever. Then tidings came that you were dead; Eowyn and Elestelle had disappeared; and that Faramir had betrayed you!" The King of Rohan was finally forced to pause to catch his breath.

"It is good to see you, Eomer, my brother! I have much to tell you," Aragorn replied, returning the embrace and blinking back the tears. "Eowyn and Elestelle are both well and safe. Well done, Aewulf! Eomer, I leave you and Imrahil in charge here while I tend to Faramir."

Reluctantly, he released Eomer. Beckoning to several guards to follow him, he made his way down to the Sixth Level where the Houses of Healing were located. A crowd still followed him calling out such sentiments as "We are glad that you have returned," and "Hail to King Elessar!"

The stretcher-bearers were hovering in the Entrance Hall to the Houses of Healing, unsure as to where they ought to take Faramir.

"Take him to the honoured guests' room!" Aedred ordered.

"I don't know if he should be taken there or to the prisoners' rooms, Master Aedred," the sergeant in charge said doubtfully. "The Kingdidn't tell us which rooms and Prince Imrahil said the Stewardwas a traitor."

"What nonsense is this?" Tarostar suddenly appeared. "Lord Faramir is no traitor! I am the Warden in charge of these Houses and I say he is here as an honoured guest!"

Oddly grateful that the decision had been taken from his hands, Aragorn took Tarostar aside. "How do you know that Lord Faramir is no traitor?" he enquired.

"Because he collapsed when he saw the corpse we all believed to be yours; and because his heart raced wildly whenever he spoke false words against you, my lord. I am glad to see that against all odds he has succeeded in rescuing you. When Master Aedred and I gave him some healing supplies, we feared we were aiding him on a mission that would end in his death."

For a moment, Aragorn's heart soared at this seemingly independent new evidence of Faramir's loyalty, only to sink again at the remembrance that this man was Faramir's cousin and a Hurin. If anyone would speak up for him, it would be Tarostar. He recalled the man's scarcely concealed fury when he had seen the Steward's injuries after Faramir's mistaken arrest seven months ago.

"Treating Lord Faramir's wound is my only concern at present," Aragorn replied curtly. "Where can I wash my hands and prepare myself?"

Tarostar led him to a small room where soap and towels lay beside bowls of steaming water. Obviously, the servants had already prepared for Aragorn's arrival. The Healer helped him divest himself of his cloak, breastplate and outer tunic, which he hung on a hook in the corner.

Aragorn rolled up his shirtsleeves and began to lave his hands.

Tarostar caught sight of the still livid scars on his wrists and elbows and exclaimed in horror. "My lord, what befell you? Have you been hurt?"

"A good deal I fear," Aragorn replied, drying his hands. "Now take me to Lord Faramir."

Tarostar led Aragorn along a corridor. Healers were rushing hither and thither as the guards brought in more wounded needing attention. Tarostar excused himself as soon as he had shown the King where Faramir was. He found his Steward lying propped up on a bed in his room with Aedred in attendance. Servants bustled back and forth.

He stood for a moment looking at Faramir. The arrow still protruded from his chest .His eyes were shut and he was grimacing in pain. His cheek was still streaked with the mud that had been thrown at him.

" I have given Lord Faramir poppy juice in preparation for removing the arrow, my lord," Aedred announced," He is not bleeding from the mouth, which is a good sign. I have examined his head and have found a bump, but he does not appear to be suffering from concussion after his fall. I have sent for hot water, bandages and towels."

"Thank you, Master Aedred. I would be grateful if you would assist me?" Aragorn dismissed the servants who by now had lit the fire and brought what was needed.

"Gladly!" the Rohirric Healer replied, "We had better begin by cutting off his armour."

Aragorn nodded and left him to the task. He dipped a cloth in the bowl of water and started cleaning the mud from his Steward's face, not for the first time in their acquaintance. Faramir just looked at him, grimacing as the leather armour was cut away from around the wound.

"Congratulations in succeeding in succouring the King, Lord Faramir!" said Aedred, aiming to distract the Steward from what was happening. "I can see you put our medicines and bandaging to good use."

"I did indeed," Faramir replied with a weak smile, "I thank you again, Master Aedred. Your help most certainly saved the King's life. I fear that your supplies are still in the cave where I left them."

"No matter," said Aedred." Now, Lord Elessar, we will need a sharp knife to cut off Lord Faramir's clothing and remove the arrow."

"Only for the clothing," Aragorn replied. "He is wearing a silk shirt. The arrow should slide out. I will do it."

Aedred nodded. "The silk shirts you have issued to the soldiers have certainly minimised their injuries," he replied, selecting a knife from a tray of instruments.

Aragorn slit Faramir's tunic down the front, taking care not to touch the protruding shaft. He pulled aside the woollen cloth revealing the linen shirt beneath. This he cut away very slowly and carefully, leaving the layer of silk beneath. To his relief, the silk had wrapped around the arrowhead before it pierced Faramir's flesh, still leaving the shirt intact.

Faramir gritted his teeth and moaned softly when the King began to slowly pull at the silk fabric, inch by painful inch, attempting to free the arrow without causing any further damage to his Steward. Suddenly it came free and the arrow fell on the bed.

Faramir gave a cry and arched in pain before falling back against the pillows. Aragorn threw the bloodied arrow to one side and grabbed a towel, which he pressed against the now profusely bleeding wound. To his great relief, the blood was a normal colour and not pink or frothy.

Aedred grabbed another towel and aided the King in trying to staunch the bleeding. Faramir himself now joined in, pressing a corner of the towel against the wound.

After what seemed an age but was in fact only a few minutes, the bleeding slowed.

"Can you sit up?" Aragorn asked Faramir," I need to see the wound now."

Faramir sighed but did as he was bidden.

Very carefully, Aragorn eased the blood-drenched shirt over the Steward's head, finally revealing the damage the arrow had done.

The combined protection of the leather breastplate and silk shirt had left Faramir with a long but fairly shallow clean cut in the fleshy part of his chest. It had missed his heart by mere inches.

Aragorn washed his hands again and carefully examined his Steward. Aedred hovered beside him, a cloth in his hand, with which he kept wiping the blood away.

Faramir endured it patiently enough though he looked somewhat uncomfortable.

Aragorn gently felt the wound, exploring the torn flesh and feeling the surrounding ribs and breastbone. He then laid his ear against Faramir's chest and then to his back and finally looked inside his mouth.

"It seems to be little more than a flesh wound," he pronounced at last, "You have a cracked rib, though nothing is broken and your lungs are undamaged. You have been very fortunate!"

"I have your lady's gift of the silk shirt and my Eowyn's insistence that I wear it to thank!" Faramir replied.

Your wives can have cause to be grateful. You seem to have a gift for protecting each other!" Aedred commented as he brought a bowl of steaming water to the bedside.

Aragorn first washed his bloodied hands and then using fresh water, to which a mixture of meadowsweet and athelas had been added, carefully bathed Faramir's wound.

Aedred next handed him a needle and thread, looking the King straight in the eye, silently asking if he would prefer to delegate the task.

Aragorn shook his head and began stitch the wound closed. He could see Faramir biting his lips to avoid crying out and instinctively placed his hand over the wound to ease the pain.

A slight, yet definite sense of warmth and comfort surged through the Steward's injured body as the pain ebbed away. After all the danger and sorrow of the past months, a surge of fierce joy welled up in his weary heart. It was worth it all! Aragorn was alive, whole, King once more, and now his healing powers were returning. A short laugh escaped Faramir, as the fear for his lord could finally ease.

Aragorn looked at him curiously. This was the very last situation that he would have expected Faramir to look so cheerful about, he had been injured, he was obviously in pain and there was nothing he liked less than having to shed his clothing in front of others. Yet, he was laughing! His suspicions, which had begun to abate at the Healers' accounts of Faramir's actions, came flooding back. Why should he laugh unless it was because he had made fools of them all?

TBC

A/N A very grateful thank you to all my readers for your greatly appreciated comments, which have now taken my total over 1200! I have replied to everyone who was logged in.


	57. I approach these questions unwillingly

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**With thanks to Raksha and Julia for their helpful suggestions and support.**

**I approach these questions unwillingly, as it wounds, but no cure can be effected without touching upon and handling them.**

**Titus Livius (Livy) (59 B.C.–A.D. 17), **

Aragorn suddenly felt faint. He swayed, and paled visibly much to Faramir and Aedred's alarm.

"Aragorn, no!" Faramir cried.

"My lord, you are unwell!" The Healer hastened to Aragorn's side and felt his pulse, noting as he did so, the heavily scarred wrist. "You have been injured!" Aedred exclaimed.

Aragorn opened his eyes and smiled wanly. "It is nothing. I am well now. I am just not yet accustomed again to so much activity."

"You should rest now, my lord, I will finish tending to Lord Faramir," said Aedred firmly.

"I shall finish what I started, but I thank you for your concern, Master Aedred," Aragorn replied, with equal firmness, slowly getting to his feet. "I shall need salves and bandages now."

Aedred looked at him doubtfully, but obediently busied himself selecting suitable dressings from the supply lying on a nearby table.

"Why did you laugh?" Aragorn demanded of Faramir.

"Your hands were warm again and I was happy," the Steward replied, grinning inanely as the poppy juice took hold.

"They are cold now," Aragorn said softly, looking down at his hands, which showed white at the fingertips. "Using the power takes took much from me. I shall not do so again. It has brought me nothing but heartache."

The words stabbed Faramir like a knife. Did that mean Aragorn regretted healing him of the Black Breath, or was he merely remembering how healing had drained his strength, thus allowing the rebels to capture him? He tried to read Aragorn's expression but his brain felt too befuddled to concentrate.

"Come, Lord Faramir, you need to sit up straight while we bandage you," said Aedred. "Which salve do you wish to use, sire?"

"Calendula and rosehip is generally most effective for wounds," Aragorn replied, supporting his Steward while the Rohirric Healer applied a liberal amount to the wound. Aragorn then pressed a pad of soft cloth against it as Aedred securely bandaged Faramir's chest and shoulder.

The noise outside seemed to be getting louder. It seemed more wounded were being brought in, together with members of the crowd, who had either swooned or been knocked over in the commotion. Voices called with increasing urgency for Healers to go to the new arrivals. Aedred's pace quickened as he knotted the bandage.

"I think you are needed elsewhere, Master Aedred," said Aragorn.

"We need to finish undressing Lord Faramir and put him to bed," the other replied.

"Can do that myself, just feel rather sleepy now," Faramir mumbled.

"You must go to the others that need you," Aragorn insisted. "I can do what is needed. Tell the Warden please, that I desire Guards to be stationed on Lord Faramir's door at all times."

"Your Steward is in no fit state to run away!" Aedred chided tartly.

"I was not suggesting that he would. The Guards are required for his own safety. Ask Master Tarostar to request that Lamrung be sent for, as one of them."

"Very well, my lord, then I beg of you to rest!"

Aragorn nodded as the Healer hurried away and turned his attention back to Faramir. A nightshirt had been left folded at the foot of the bed ready for his use and he then aided the younger man to ease it over his head, prior to removing his breeches and then tucking the bed covers around him.

Faramir seemed too sleepy to protest, although his demeanour suggested that he was grateful for the discreet manner of Aragorn's assistance. "Do you plan to question the prisoners?" he asked as a sudden thought penetrated his somewhat fuddled brain.

"Yes, as soon as possible," Aragorn replied.

"Ask them, please, what happened to Anborn and his men," Faramir pleaded.

"I will, if I have the opportunity," the King promised.

Aragorn propped him up with pillows, then tucked the covers around him. By now, he was sound asleep and unaware of the other's presence.

Aragorn lingered, watching him as he slept. Faramir's face was pale, from shock and loss of blood, and his visage still slightly creased with pain. His pallor accentuated his carven features, long eyelashes and raven hair. It reminded Aragorn of the first time they had met, four years ago in this very room, and how he had been struck by the air of High Numenorean nobility that surrounded Faramir.

That day, the young man had captured a place in Aragorn's heart and the King had grown to love him as dearly as a son. His heart went out to him, remembering all they had been through together and the deep bond that had grown between them. He loved him still, despite everything. Today, he had almost certainly saved Aragorn from serious injury at the very least. _He_ should be lying there, not Faramir.

Yet, had the valiant gesture, been no more than a way to try to redeem his own honour? He had seen the look in the Steward's eyes, when the crowd had jeered and thrown mud at the one who had once been their favourite son.

There were so many questions that Faramir seemed unwilling or unable to answer, the most pertinent being as to why he had not revealed his deception, if deception it was, during the times they had been alone in that vile cellar together. Why had he held a knife at his King's throat and rubbed his already raw skin with sackcloth and an onion? He had had plenty of opportunity to justify himself over these past weeks, but would say nothing other than he had to act as he did. How the King wanted to trust him, and to love him whole heartedly the way he had done before, but he could not.

Instinctively, he bent to tenderly kiss him on the brow, as he had done so many times before in the past. He froze; unable to complete the gesture, as yet again, the image of Faramir advancing upon him with the brand, his eyes cold and flint like as Denethor's swum before his eyes.

"I am sorry," he said, swallowing hard and moving away from the bed. Then, without a second glance, he turned and left the room.

He first sought out Imrahil and Eomer, but since it was obvious that they had the situation well under control, felt his presence was unnecessary. He considered retiring to his room to recover from the day's exertions, which weighed heavily on his still healing body. He knew, though, that his mind would find no rest, while so many unanswered questions whirled round his brain. He decided to see what Fontos had to say for himself.

The Lord of Lossarnach had been taken to the euphemistically named 'Hospitality Room'; a secure chamber used to detain troublesome dignitaries in safety and relative comfort, compared to that of the City prison.

The Guard stationed at the chamber door unlocked it and showed Aragorn inside.

Fontos, dressed only in a shirt and breeches, was slumped dejectedly on the bed. He rose to his feet when he saw who had come in.

"You may leave us," Aragorn told the Guard, " I wish you to remain just outside the door."

"My lord, this man is a dangerous criminal!" the Guard, a young Sergeant, protested.

"I am aware of that, Sergeant, but you have searched him for weapons have you not?"

The man nodded. "Aye, my lord."

"You may safely leave us then, I have Anduril at my side."

The Sergeant saluted and reluctantly left the King alone with the prisoner.

"What have you to say for yourself, Lord Fontos?" Aragorn demanded, seating himself on the chair.

Fontos fell on his knees and clutched at Aragorn's feet. "Only that I am sorry and bitterly regret what I have done, sire," he said. "I ask for and expect no mercy for myself but I beg of you not to harm my son, or if he must die, make it a quick and merciful death! I swear my wife knew nothing, being in too great fear of her father to enquire aught of him."

"Unlike the company, you have been keeping, I am not in the habit of slaughtering innocents, especially not two year old children!" Aragorn replied. "Get up! I would look you in the eye while I speak to you."

Fontos scrambled to his feet and Aragorn noticed a large bruise on the side of his face. It seemed he had been treated none too gently when he was brought here. He looked somehow very young and vulnerable, and the King remembered that he had succeeded to his father's estates when he was only twenty-five years old, when Forlong had been unhorsed and hewn to death with axes at the battle of Pellenor Fields.

"Do you require a Healer?" Aragorn asked the young man.

Fontos shook his head. "No, my lord, I am well. I received no less than I deserved when I was brought here."

"Sit down then, and tell me what you know of the woman Hanna and her child," Aragorn ordered. "I would know the whole story."

Fontos closed his eyes and sat lost in thought for a moment. "Although I was but half Lord Boromir's age," he began," I was his close friend. He befriended me when I was the youngest of the Tower Guards, little more than a boy, only there because of my father's rank and influence. For that reason, I was unpopular with my fellows. Lord Boromir would often spend his leave at Duilin of Morthond's hunting lodge, where we would hunt all day and feast most of the night. Often, together with my father, I was invited there.

Duilin liked to have attractive and well brought up girls there, to wait upon the men at table, engage them in conversation and dance with them if required. I assure you, sire, that these girls were not expected to behave in an immoral fashion, but rather make up for the lack of female society, as hunting parties were not considered fitting occasions for our wives."

Aragorn nodded, remembering his own invitations to such gatherings during his years in Gondor as Captain Thorongil. He had avoided them whenever possible, fearing a careless slip of the tongue, after too much good food and wine, could lead to his true identity being discovered.

"Hanna, as the daughter of the Porter at the Rath Dinen, was considered suitable to serve at the feasts. Her usual employment was as a personal maid to Duilin's wife. She was a beautiful, vivacious girl, albeit rather flirtatious, and she soon caught Lord Boromir's eye. I do not know whether she genuinely loved him, or was drawn to his wealth and position, but she made it clear she would welcome his attentions. My father and I shared a room with Lord Boromir and one night he never came to bed. When he finally appeared at dawn, he boasted how he had spent a most enjoyable night in the arms of the lovely Hanna. My father was shocked by his conduct but dared not rebuke the Steward's heir. I assume that was when Elbeth was conceived."

Aragorn nodded. It seemed that there was no doubt that Elbeth was Boromir's daughter.

"It was years before I saw Hanna again," Fontos continued," by that time, my father was dead, as was Lord Boromir and his father. I was angry that Lord Boromir had been taken from us, for I believed that he would have made a great Steward. I married Lord Dervorin's daughter and spent much time with him and his great friend Fosco of Lamedon. They resented you taking the throne, sire, Fosco, because his father died soon after following you on the Paths of the Dead, Dervorin because your rule favoured the common people. Others joined them, including their tenants and Meneldil of Lebennin, an ardent supporter of the House of Hurin. Dervorin formulated a plan to find a child that resembled Lord Boromir and usehim or her,as a means of stirring up dissent against you. I was reluctant at first to join them; but then, he told me that you, sire, had most likely caused Lord Boromir's death as well as having Lord Faramir beaten and imprisoned. I felt the House of Hurin had been much wronged after a thousand years of faithful service to Gondor."

"He lied!" Aragorn exclaimed angrily." I have spoken little of how Lord Boromir died to protect his reputation, but he fell at the hands of the Uruk Hai. I played no part in his death. Lord Faramir's arrest was a mistake, which I regretted."

Fontos shuddered at the blazing anger in the King's eyes." I am sorry," he murmured.

"And so you should be," Aragorn said coldly. "Now continue your story!"

"Last autumn, Dervorin found Hanna living rough in a barn on his estate with her child. He immediately recognised the likeness between Elbeth and Lord Boromir. When Hanna told her story, he asked me to forge my father's hand on a marriage certificate. Hanna claimed she had been falsely imprisoned in the asylum by you. She was consumed with hatred towards both you and Lord Faramir. It seems, that after she conceived Lord Boromir's child, her family felt the shame keenly but found a friend of her father's, a ranger in Lord Faramir's company, willing to marry her and accept the child as his own. Then during the war, he was killed under Lord Faramir's command. Hanna and her mother took shelter during the siege of Minas Tirith with a kinswoman married to a charcoal burner. When the porter was killed, they never returned to the City and lived in poverty, Hanna returning to the Hunting Lodge to work as a kitchen maid to support her child. Their kinswoman died soon afterwards, or so Hanna said."

"That to some degree, explains her hatred and how she came to lose her wits," Aragorn said, more to himself than Fontos. " The Porter's widow and her family should have been provided for, but were somehow overlooked. I wonder if Lord Boromir ever knew he had a child?"

Fontos shook his head." I very much doubt it, or that he even remembered his encounter with the mother. He had a way with the ladies, did Lord Boromir, though most had the moral strength to resist his advances."

Aragorn felt a pang of sadness that Boromir had never known his lovable, intelligent and compassionate little daughter. The Steward's heir had been fatally flawed by his pride and Denethor's over indulgence. Yet, maybe knowing he had a child might have steadied him and strengthened his character. Doubtless, Hanna and her family had been too ashamed by her loose conduct to try to inform the Steward or his son what had happened.

Satisfied he had learned all he could about Hanna, Aragorn changed the subject. "Who was murdered and dressed in my clothes?" he enquired.

"I do not know his name, only that he was an emissary from the North, whom Fosco invited to stay with him when the City was ravaged by fever," Fontos replied.

Aragorn's gaze darkened. Most likely, the unfortunate man was a distant kinsman of his. He would insist that he was buried with honour and request that his Steward in Arnor see that his kin were well provided for.

"One last thing I wish to know, before I take my leave," Aragorn said, remembering Faramir's request. He stretched his long legs and rose to his feet, wincing slightly as he did so.." What became of Anborn, the Captain of Lord Faramir's Escort, and his men?"

"I do not know," Fontos replied without hesitation." My lord, I am so sorry! I never expected them to treat you as they did. It sickened me but I was too much of a coward to try to stop them! "

"I wish you to repeat all you have told me at Dervorin's trial," Aragorn said sternly.

"Gladly, my lord, I wish to atone in what little time I have left!" Fontos replied.

"I will have food and drink sent to you and you may have reading and writing materials, if you so wish," Aragorn said in a more kindly tone. "I suggest you use this time wisely to reflect on your actions and their consequences while I decide your fate." With that, he took his leave.

Fontos stated after him, recognising the greatness of the man and bitterly ruing his decision to throw in his lot with the rebels.

TBC

_A very grateful thank you to all my readers for your amazing response to the previous chapters. I have replied to everyone who was logged in._

_This story is already longer than "Burden of Guilt" much to my amazement._

_Considering the ethos of the times, Aragorn is currently treating Faramir very leniently, for whatever the reason, even speaking against the ruler, could be punished by imprisonment or even death. In certain repressive regimes, this could still happen._

_Until quite recent times, having a child out of wedlock was considered to bring great shame upon the woman and her family. Again, in some countries, this is still true._


	58. The friendship of men that are good

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Perfect friendship is the friendship of men who are good, and alike in excellence; for these wish well alike to each other qua good, and they are good in themselves.**

**Aristotle (384–323 B.C.), **

When Aragorn left Fontos, he was delighted to find Eomer waiting for him outside the detention room. He was surprised just how keenly he had missed the joys of an uncomplicated friendship; such as he shared with the young King of the Mark.

He and Eomer, had little in common save the bond that comes from fighting side by side on the battlefield, yet a deep affection had existed between them almost since the day they had first met and had grown stronger over the years. Eomer benefited from Aragorn's experience and wisdom, whereas Aragorn found the society of one still full of youthful energy and enthusiasm, not yet jaded by the passing years, very refreshing.

A shadow had briefly fallen between them, when Eomer had mistakenly believed Faramir has mistreated Eowyn and fought with him on the steps on the Counsel Chamber. However, once Eomer had recovered from the head injury he suffered, he had been most contrite over his conduct. Aragorn had had gladly forgiven him, hoping that the incident would serve to grant him greater wisdom and maturity.

Sometimes of late, he had wondered if Eomer had been correct in his accusations at that time that he favoured Faramir. Maybe, he and his Steward were too alike, which had, perhaps, led Faramir to covet what could have been his, but was now Aragorn's by right.

"Come, brother, I have something to show you!" Eomer firmly graspedhis friend'sarm, inadvertentlycausing Aragorn to flinch. However, he allowed himself to be led towards the stables. A contingent of Imrahil's Guards trailed behind them, keeping a respectful distance He paused to speak to the grooms who were busying themselves grooming Roheryn and Zachus. With barely concealed impatience, Eomer led him to a stall at the far end. A familiar dark grey head looked over the stall and whinnied in pleasure.

"Hasufel!" Aragorn exclaimed delightedly, reaching out to caress the stallion's neck. "It is good to see you again!"

"I brought him to walk in your funeral procession," Eomer explained. "He had the honour of bearing a King in his saddle and I believe has not forgotten it. I should like you now to keep him, as a mark of my joy that you still live!"

"He is indeed a generous gift. I thank you from the bottom of my heart." Aragorn kissed Eomer warmly on the brow, and then busied himself stroking the horse's velvety nose, hoping his friend would not notice the tears that recently seemed to have come to him far too easily and often.

They lingered awhile and then walked back together towards the Royal Apartments where Eomer made to leave for the guest quarters. The walls suddenly seemed to close in around Aragorn. He realised he had not been alone for more than a few moments since Faramir had rescued him from Dervorin's cellar, and the prospect was frightening to him. What had become of him? He was a king, a warrior, and a ranger who had spent years alone in the wilds. Yet, now he was like a child afraid of the dark.

"Eomer," he asked impulsively, " Could you stay with me tonight? I miss Arwen's presence. I have much too, that I would tell you."

Eomer looked slightly puzzled. However, he immediately nodded his agreement. "Of course, my friend, I just need to speak with my men and then groom Firefoot. When his usual groom is not present, I like to tend him myself. I will return soon."

Aragorn found that his room was almost exactly as he had left it. The servants had obviously been in to clean and tidy it, and a cheerful fire burned in the grate. His healing supplies were still there untouched, the same tapestries adorned the walls, embroideries Arwen had brought from Rivendell, depicting the great deeds of their ancestors. His clothes were still hanging in their places as were Faramir's.

The Steward's possessions were dotted around the room, his comb, a small portrait of Eowyn and another of Boromir, and a book of Quenya poetry, that Aragorn remembered him sitting up reading shortly before he was captured. How could a man who had been so close to, have treated him so cruelly? Yet, it seemed that Faramir had remained here in the King's chamber, as if trying to emphasise the status he would have, if there were no King.

He would ask the servants to return Faramir's possessions to his own rooms, but that would have to wait. He was weary now, though it was only early evening.

He decided to have a bath in the hope it would ease his aching body and then share a light supper with Eomer before retiring to bed.

He went out into the corridor, noting that two guards stood outside the door, one of the Tower Guard and one of Eomer's men and was glad of their reassuring presence, something he never would have felt in the past. He called to a passing servant and ordered them to prepare a hot bath for him.

He laid out his nightshirt, robe, and clean underwear on the bed. He then sat for a while looking through Faramir's book of poetry waiting for the bath to be prepared. The poems all seemed to be about loyalty, honour and courage: qualities, which until recently, he would have wholeheartedly associated with the book's owner.

He lingered over a ballad describing the rescue of Maedros by Fingon, lingering over the part where Fingon had severed Maedros' hand in order to free him. Was Faramir's act of branding him a similar gesture? Or was it done solely to please those he appeared to have thrown in his lot with?

A servant interrupted his musings to inform him that his bath was now ready. Searching through his healing supplies, he selected some salves and oils, and then entered the bathing chamber. He added a few drops of lavender and rosehip oils to the water, undressed, and climbed into the sunken bath.

He felt the pain and soreness gradually leave his damaged body while he bathed, luxuriating in the bliss of being able to enjoy some privacy and comfortably spread out his long limbs in the spacious tub.

He planned to treat himself with the mud bath the next day, as he was eager to be free of the painful and unsightly scars, which disfigured much of his body.

Reluctantly, deciding he had lingered long enough in the bath, he rather gingerly eased himself out and reaching for his towel, began to carefully dry himself and thenapply healing salves to keep the scarred skin supple.

He prepared to don his night attire, only to realise that he had left it in the bedchamber. Thinking it was of no great import, since Eomer would most likely still be in the stables, he made his way back to the bedroom.

Clad only in a towel, which he held draped loosely round his waist, Aragorn padded barefoot from the bathing chamber, intending to don his nightshirt before the King of Rohan joined him

He was rather taken aback to see Eomer already there. Reticent at the best of times, he was acutely self-conscious of the numerous scars currently disfiguring his body. He could have covered most of them by crossing his arms, but to do so would risk losing his towel and with it, his last shreds of dignity. He was accustomed now to his wife, Faramir and Eowyn seeing the scars, but had little wish for anyone else to do so. Growing up amongst Elves had left him unaccustomed to such disfigurements and worse still; these were no honourable battle wounds.

"I am glad that you are here," he said, trying to appear casual and snatching up his nightshirt, letting go of his towel as he did so. Turning his back, he started to pull the nightshirt over his head, but it was too late. Eomer was gazing at him with an expression of sheer horror on his face.

"Aragorn!" he exclaimed," Whatever has been done to you?"

"I was put to torment while I was held captive," Aragorn said tersely, his voice muffled by the material.

"Let me see, my brother!" Gently but firmly, the nightshirt was pulled from Aragorn's grasp, Eomer easily resisting his somewhat clumsy attempts to cover himself.

Aragorn sighed. Resisting his urge to pick up his towel and clutch it around himself, he resigned himself to the indignity of permitting his friend to see his marred body. It was not the first time that Eomer had seen him injured and unclothed. However, on that occasion, he had been wounded in battle, and not carried the degrading marks of torture.

Eomer drew his breath in sharply, an expression of increasing sympathy and dismay on his face as looked Aragorn up and down and took in his friend's many injuries.

"Whoever did this to you?" Eomer asked, tracing a surprisingly gentle finger across each scar while he scrutinised them intently.

"Fosco of Lamedon, Dervorin of Ringlo Vale and their accomplices," Aragorn said grimly, trying to appear unperturbed by his friend's intense scrutiny. He could not bring himself yet to mention Faramir's name. He trembled slightly while Eomer circled him and studied the numerous reminders of the pain and humiliation he had suffered, from the marks left by the manacles on his wrists and ankles, to the wheals on his back and the knife wounds on his arms, chest and belly.

"Why did they inflict wounds such as these?" Eomer asking, studying the places where the skin had been removed and had grown back, red and tender.

"They sought to cause me pain without killing me by skinning me by inches," Aragorn told him grimly, shuddering at the memory of the excruciating pain.

"How could they be so cruel? And this, it is an outrage!" Eomer's eyes were now fixed on his disfigured shoulder," How could anyone brand you, and not even like a cow, but as a bullock?"

"What do you mean?" Aragorn enquired, wondering if there would be no end to his humiliation.

"When I was a lad, I spent a few weeks on a farm near Ringlo Vale," Eomer explained. "Elfhelm, long before he became a Marshal, went to deliver some horses to its lord and my uncle allowed me to go with him, in order to learn something of our neighbours. It was the season when they branded the cattle, and the herdsman showed me the different brands that they used to quickly distinguish between cows, bulls and bullocks. Trampling with wild horses would be too good for the unspeakable fiend who did this to you! You should curse them as Isildur cursed the oath breakers! "

"I will punish them as they deserve," Aragorn said quietly; loath to reveal just who had so disfigured him.

"I am so sorry, my friend. Would that I had known, and could have come to your aid!" Eomer averted his gaze at last, swallowing hard. "You must let me summon a Healer!"

Finally able to don his nightshirt, Aragorn swiftly pulled it down, then sat on the edge of the bed to pull his drawers on underneath. "There is no need," he said firmly, "Eowyn has tended me well."

"You might need someone to testify at the trial what those brutes did to you," Eomer insisted.

Though, he would much prefer the full extent of his injuries not to be revealed, Aragorn conceded the wisdom of his reasoning. "I will sent for Aedred tomorrow," he promised," I shall no doubt need a Healer to assist me with my mud treatment. Anxious to change the subject, he pulled on his robe and tied it firmly round the waist.Will you ask a servant to bring supper, please, Eomer?" he said, "I will tell you my story while we eat."

TBC

_A/N A very grateful thank you to everyone who has taken the trouble to review. Your comments are greatly appreciated and I have replied to everyone who was logged in. The story is now gradually drawing towards a conclusion but how many chapters are left is for my wayward Muse to decide._

_Eomer tended the wounded Aragorn in my first story, "The Hidden days of Healing" also on this site. Eomer fought with Faramir in "Burden of Guilt, the prequel to this story."_


	59. What turmoil have I made ?

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain

**Was I not born in this Realm? Were my parents born in any foreign country?... Is not my Kingdom here? Whom have I oppressed? Whom have I enriched to other's harm? What turmoil have I made to this Commonwealth that I should be suspected to have no regard of the same?**

**Elizabeth I (1533–1603)**

The two friends sat side by side on the rug in front of the fire eating their supper.

Between mouthfuls, Aragorn told Eomer of how the fever epidemic had ravaged Gondor and sapped his strength from endless hours spent in healing, how he had been abducted as he walked home and stripped of his clothing, and dressed in rags, his own clothes used to make all believe the unfortunate man found in the river was he. How he was chained in the cold, dark cellar, tortured and starved, to try to make him sign the marriage contract for Eldarion and Elbeth. He told too, of how Elbeth had succoured him with her company and what food she could bring. More haltingly, he revealed his increasing despair and how he had eventually succumbed to fever.

Eomer listened intently, saying little, but his dismay and compassion obvious from his expression. "What of Faramir?" he asked at last, " According to my father in law and many others, he joined the rebels and betrayed you. Yet, he was at your side today and probably saved your life by taking the arrow meant for you."

"I do not know what to make of him," Aragorn said, after a moment's thought. "My wife tells me that she suggested he join the rebels to discover my whereabouts. Yet, he appeared to have truly thrown in his lot with them when I next saw him. Even when were alone, he gave no sign that he was other than a traitor. Faramir is not skilled in dissembling. That I do know."

"Faramir is no Wormtongue," said Eomer. "I would not have permitted any, who resembled that snake, to wed with my sister. How did you escape?"

"I remember little, for Faramir drugged me to feign death. The next thing I knew, I was in a cave with him and Elbeth. We stayed there until I was fit to travel to a farmhouse, where my wife and son were hiding, together with your sister and Elestelle. We remained there to regain my strength until today. Damrod brought me tidings that my funeral was to be held today and it seemed a good opportunity to regain my throne and unmask the rebels. I shall try them within the next few days and punish them according to their just desserts. Though, what I should do with Faramir, I do not know."

"I can only advise you to follow your heart," Eomer said gravely, "Rest assured though, that whatever you decide, I will care for my sister and her child."

Aragorn sighed, much as it pained him to tell his story; it was a relief to have confided. He could not help but be pleased to note how much Eomer had matured recently. "Tell me now, how you are faring," he said," I would hear happier tidings."

Eomer smiled; "I have wonderful news," he said, "Lothiriel is with child. It happened almost as soon as I returned home at the turn of year. Until then, I do not think we had realised just how deeply we cared about each other. Our reunion was a joyous one with the result, that we hope to welcome our child in the autumn. I am to be a father and Rohan will have an heir!"

Congratulations!" Aragorn beamed; clapping his friend on the back, "Those are indeed tidings to gladden my heart!" He put down his goblet and went towards his bathing chamber to prepare for the night. "Would you like to borrow a nightshirt?" he asked Eomer. "I hope you do not mind if we leave a candle burning."

"You will need light after being held captive in the darkness," Eomer replied understandingly. "No nightshirt, thank you, I have quite enough of those, being as my wife insists on me wearing one. Much as I desire to please her, I would rather sleep in my clothes or nothing! You Gondorians are obsessed with covering yourselves!" Thus saying, he pulled off his boots and outer tunic then, laying his sword within reach, he settled in the vast bed, lying closest to the door. Aragorn joined him a few minutes later, and exhausted by the day's events, he quickly fell asleep.

Eomer was awakened a few hours later by Aragorn thrashing around in his sleep and crying out repeatedly "Faramir, no, no!"

"Wake up! Come, Aragorn, you must awaken!" Eomer grabbed Aragorn's shoulders and gently shook him.

The King awoke and for a moment stared blankly at Eomer.

"Easy, my friend, you were having a nightmare," the King of Rohan soothed. "You appeared to be having dark dreams of Faramir." He lit another candle as he spoke, hoping more light would calm his friend.

"I saw him yet again coming at me with the brand," Aragorn whispered, sitting up as he spoke. He was sweating profusely and trembling. Eomer rather awkwardly patted his back as a gesture of comfort.

"The brand?" Eomer sounded bewildered.

"Faramir wielded it." Aragorn finally admitted the dreadful truth he had sought to conceal. "The rebels challenged him to brand me to prove his loyalty to them. He did so."

Too shocked to reply, the King of Rohan could only put his arm around his friend and hold him against his shoulder. Aragorn was trembling still and was so painfully thin that Eomer could easily feel his bones beneath the linen garment he wore.

Eomer did not know, which he found the more disturbing; that his brother in law was capable of such a cruel act, or that his friend and mentor was so broken in body and spirit.

"I am sorry, you should see me thus," Aragorn whispered at last." In my dreams, I am back in that cellar and it overwhelms me."

"Be easy, my brother," Eomer soothed patting his back, "I am glad to be beside you when you have need of me. I am certain I would be troubled by nightmares too, if such vile treatment had been meted out to me. On the morrow, I will fetch your lady and my sister. You will rest easier then. The City is secured now and it will be safe for them to return."

"Thank you, that would ease my heart greatly," Aragorn replied. "There is no man that I trust more to protect them."

"Rest now, I am here beside you," Eomer soothed. "All will soon be well again."

Aragorn gradually relaxed and settled back against the pillows. Eomer tucked the covers around his friend and kept his hand resting lightly upon his shoulder until he was snoring softly.

The King of Rohan only wished he could believe his own assurances, as never before had he seen Aragorn thus. How he wished he could deal out his own justice to those that had so abused him! He could hardly believe what he had just heard about Faramir, though he knew it must be true. He was not especially close to his brother in law but had always believed him to be an honourable man and above all gentle of demeanour, apart from when he had received Eowyn's ill conceived letter by mistake.

That had shocked him even more, because he considered Faramir incapable of harming or ill-treating any save an enemy in the heat of battle. That was why he had permitted the match, wishing his sister to have a kindly husband. Eowyn had only recently assured him that Faramir was the most gentle and considerate of men who had never raised his hand against her or taken her by force. It was a mystery, how such a man could have disfigured Aragorn's shoulder with that cruel brand. Still trying to make sense of it all, Eomer finally fell asleep again.

The next morning, Aragorn awoke soon after cockcrow and breakfasted with Eomer.

The King of Rohan then left together with some of his own men and a contingent of Swan Knights to escort the Arwen, Eowyn and the babies back to Minas Tirith.

Aragorn was eager to have the Elven scar treatment that morning, but decided to first walk to the Houses of Healing to ask Aedred to assist him and enquire how Faramir fared.

"How is Lord Faramir today?" he enquired when the Rohirric Healer greeted him.

"He is free of fever but seems to have developed a cough." Aedred replied. "As you said you wished to tend him, I was waiting for your instructions."

Aragorn sighed." I had come to ask you to assist me later today with an Elven treatment for my own injuries, as well as see how Lord Faramir was. His wife is returning today and I thought he could return to his own rooms to be cared for by her."

"Gladly, I will assist you, my lord," said Aedred. " Lord Faramir should benefit greatly from his wife's care. However, I would like you to first examine him."

"I will see him, but after today, I shall no longer be involved in the healing arts," said Aragorn. "I cannot be both King and Healer!"

Aedred raised his eyebrows but said only, "You will be much missed here, my lord."

Faramir lay propped against a mound of pillows on his bed. His breathing was slightly laboured and he kept trying to cough, which caused him to clutch at his chest and grimace with pain.

"Does your wound pain you?" Aragorn asked, as soon as he entered the room.

"A little," Faramir replied, his sad eyes briefly lighting up at the sight of his King.

"Let me see," said Aragorn, nodding to Aedred to fetch supplies of salves and bandages. The Healer placed them on the bedside table together with a bowl of hot water and a towel.

"You may leave us now," said Aragorn," I should like a tea prepared of dandelion, coltsfoot and rosehips for Lord Faramir."

"Very well, my lord." Aedred bowed and left.

"How is the City faring?" Faramir asked, still fingering the laces of his nightshirt.

"All is well. The rebels are under lock and key. Eomer is going to fetch your wife home today. I have asked Fontos about Anborn and his men but he can shed no light on the matter. Now let me see you wound. I need you to sit up straight."

Faramir sighed and dejectedly slid the nightshirt from his upper body.

Aragorn carefully unwrapped the bandages. He frowned at the sight of Faramir's now bared chest, which was completely black and blue down one side, though his wound was clean and starting to heal.

Pressing his ear to his Steward's chest, he was relieved to find the lung was sound albeit slightly congested. His heart beat more rapidly than the night before, though Aragorn suspected that it was because he was uneasy rather than due to his injury. He pulled the covers aside to see if Faramir's ankles were swollen. To his relief, they were not, which reassured him his heart was sound.

"What will happen to me now?" Faramir asked.

"I am trying to decide that, but for the present I wish you to concentrate on recovering," Aragorn replied, rubbing marigold and comfrey salve on Faramir's chest. "I shall release you into your wife's care when she returns. You may then return to your own rooms. Guards will be outside the door at all times."

" I will not attempt to run away," Faramir said firmly.

"I know that. They are for your own protection," the King replied, frowning as he further examined his Steward and detected some slight swelling around the wound. Fluid retention was common after such injuries and the conventional treatment was herbs and a vigorous pummelling of the patient by a Healer. However, Elven massage treatments were far more gentle and effective in strengthening the heart and stimulating kidneys to drain away the surplus fluid. Faramir was already bruised and in pain and looked so vulnerable and exposed. Little though he felt inclined to use Elven treatments on him, Aragorn felt it would be wrong to refuse to.

Faramir coughed again, his body contorting with pain.

"Lie down," Aragorn instructed him, "You require the Elven massage treatments to ease you."

Faramir almost immediately relaxed. He had come to regard Aragorn's Elven treatments as a most agreeable experience.

As Aragorn began, a sharp pain flared in his branded shoulder. It seemed almost unnatural, to be treating the very man who had inflicted the hurt, with a remedy carefully created over vast ages to succour loved ones. He could not bring himself to massage Faramir in the loving manner, he had used in the past Try as he might, Aragorn could only bring himself to touch Faramir as one might a servant or slight acquaintance, rather than as a son or brother, and he found, even touching him in such an impersonal manner, was very difficult.

Faramir felt the difference almost immediately, subtle though it was. How could it be otherwise though, as he had forfeited the right to be treated as a beloved son? A single tear rolled down his cheek for all he had lost. The treatment was painless, yet he felt as if a knife were piercing his heart.

"Why did you act as you did and join in torturing me?" Aragorn asked suddenly.

"I had no choice. I did so because of the love I bear you," Faramir replied brokenly.

"A strange sort of love indeed! You had a knife to my throat. Did you intend to kill me?" Aragorn enquired, without looking up from his reluctant ministrations.

"Yes," Faramir replied simply.It was painful for him to even think of what he had almost done.

"The man I once knew could not have contemplated such an act." Aragorn was shocked at the unadorned reply.

"Nor, did I know that I was capable of such, " Faramir said bleakly.

"Do I have your word you will never again raise your hand against me?" Aragorn demanded.

Faramir hesitated for a moment then shook his head slightly. "How could I make such a vow, for what if the need arose again?" he said.

"Turn over!" Aragorn said brusquely, hardly able to endure looking at him. He said not another word as he thoroughly and impersonally massaged Faramir's back. A part of him yearned to reach out and comfort the one he had loved as a son, but how could he when he had just openly proclaimed his readiness to kill him? "I have finished, so you may cover yourself again. Aedred is bringing you herbs, which you must drink. From now on, Eowyn will give you what treatments you need. I will see you again when you have recovered to tell you what I have decided to do with you. You do, though, have my gratitude for saving my life."

"I accept whatever punishment you bestow," said Faramir bleakly, thankfully pulling his nightshirt up over his shoulders. "I know that my acts cannot be justified."

"Farewell, then. I have much to do this day."

Aragorn hesitated for a moment, again wanting to bestow a kiss of blessing but finding himself unable to do so. He abruptly turned and left the room.

Aedred was already waiting outside with the herbal tea which he instructed Faramir to drink every drop of. The Steward was then left alone with his thoughts.

He had know from the moment he had promised to do Arwen's bidding what his fate would be and freely accepted it. He could not help but shudder, though at the thought of the agonising death that awaited traitors. Aragorn had been appalled, when he had believed that awaited him for attacking Eomer. Yet, then, he had not raised his hand against his lord nor openly slandered him. Aragorn was not a man, though, who relished cruelty, maybe a simple hanging or beheading would be his fate, or if he were especially, merciful; exile. Even that would be torment to him, for he loved his country with the ardour of a true son of Gondor.

He hoped whatever fate Aragorn decided for him; he would meet it bravely. It hardly mattered what the King decided, as he was certain so honourable a man would not harm Eowyn or Elestelle. He had already lost what he held most dear, his honour and Aragorn's trust and friendship. It would have been better by far had the arrow pierced his heart.

TBC

_A very grateful thank you for all your much appreciated reviews. I have replied to everyone who was logged in. A warm welcome to my new readers and my grateful thanks to those of you who continue to support my work._

_In olden days, honour was prized above all else and a person and their family devoid of it would usually be shunned._


	60. Good name in man and woman,

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,  
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:  
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;  
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands:  
But he that filches from me my good name  
Robs me of that which not enriches him  
And makes me poor indeed. - Shakespeare - Othello 3.iii**

**With grateful thanks to Raksha for all her help with this chapter anf for the new storysummary. **

Faramir finished his herbal tea and placed the cup on the bedside table. The Elven massage had already greatly eased his cough and he would have liked to seek forgetfulness in sleep, but his heart was too heavy Instead, he sat staring at the stone walls of the small chamber.

He wondered how many hours would pass before Eowyn arrived. He was grateful for Aragorn's mercy in allowing them to reunite, even if it were only for a short time before his probable execution. He was glad that Eomer was here, for surely he would care for Eowyn and their daughter, together with Elestelle. Even if Aragorn spared his life, he would be forced to rely upon the King of Rohan's charity. Aragorn would most surely take back his estates in Ithilien and divert their revenues to the crown.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of raised voices outside. The door opened to admit his uncle, with Tarostar following close behind him.

"I am surprised that he," Imrahil gestured towards Faramir, "is here rather than in one of the rooms reserved for prisoners."

"The King himself permitted Lord Faramir to be brought here," Tarostar said firmly. "He is no traitor."

"How can you know that?" Imrahil demanded.

"Because your nephewtook me into his confidence regarding his plans," Tarostar replied.

Imrahil's gaze darkened. "You may leave us, Master Tarostar," he said curtly.

"Very well, but I shall return in five minutes. I would ask you not to disturb my patient, my lord." With that, Tarostar swept from the room.

"I have come to see what account you have to give of yourself," Imrahil said.

"I thought only to save the King," Faramir replied simply.

"By slandering him in Council and dishonouring the good name of your House?" Imrahil retorted.

"The Queen and I devised it as a strategy," Faramir explained. "I needed to draw out the true traitors, and cozen them into trusting me so they would lead me to the King."

"Why could you not have include me in these plans?" Imrahil asked tightly. "Obviously, you confined in the Warden here yet could not confide in me! Why, Faramir, why?" Imrahil's visage remained stern, yet he was unable to veil the hurt in his eyes. "You go off with out a word, apparently at the invitation of the Lord of Lamedon. Then nothing is heard of you for weeks on end. You left me in sole charge of Gondor when the realm sorely needed you! What would have happened had I succumbed to the fever?"

"I am sorry, my lord," said Faramir. "I believed I had no choice but to incite your wrath. Your anger against me had to be genuine and I dared not put us all at risk by disclosing my plans. Remember how you sent the Warden to enquire about my state of health? When he examined me, he realised that when I slandered the King, I spoke falselyI deemed the help of a Healer might prove useful, so I chose to tell Tarostar of my plans to find and help my liege lord. I thought it unlikely that the rebels would suspecthim. I did ask Tarostar to inform you, had I not returned by the start of summer. I trusted in the valour of your sons, should the fever strike you."

"However did my sister bear such a foolhardy son?" Imrahil said, more to himself than Faramir. " Together, we could have taken troops and searched until we found the King. How did you even know that he was alive? It was after all, you, who identified his body!"

"We are thought bonded," Faramir said quietly, thinking sadly thathe would never again know the bliss of sharing thoughts with Aragorn. "The Queen shares a similar bond with him, so together we could sense that the King yet lived. I promised her that I would restore her husband to her."

"Maybe the saving of the Kingwill yet redeem you, though I like not the manner in which it was done," said Imrahil in a softer tone. "I came to hear what explanation, if any, you had to offerand tell you that whatever fate the King decrees for you, I will accept that decision."

"As do I, my lord," said Faramir.

"How are you faring?" Imrahil enquired in an abrupt change of subject. He studied Faramir's pallid features and drawn expression with concern in his eyes.

"I am well," Faramir replied. "The King himself tended my wound and pronounced it but slight. I hope to return to my chambers later today."

The door opened and Tarostar re-entered the room, carrying a cup." I am sorry, but you must leave now, my lord, " he told Imrahil." Lord Faramir needs to rest."

"Farewell!" said Imrahil turning to leave.

"Farewell, uncle, um, my lord, " Faramir replied.

Imrahil left the room, his expression once more closed and unreadable.

Tarostar fussed over Faramir, checking his pulse and his forehead for signs of fever, then bade him drain the contents of the cup, which contained a sleeping draught. He hovered at the bedside until the Steward slumbered peacefully.

"They will realise your true quality one day. I only hope it will not be too late," Tarostar murmured to the sleeper, then left to carry out his other duties.

In his apartments, Aragorn paced impatiently while he waited for the servants to prepare his bath.

"I am most intrigued how this treatment words, my lord," said Aedred, who was examining a tapestry on the wall depicting the oath of Eorl.

"It is an age old remedy known only to the Elves," Aragorn explained. "It causes scar tissue to be broken down and replaced with healthy flesh, when combined with a special rosehip salve, which I shall require you to apply to my back."

"Most curious!" Aedred exclaimed, then turned and doubtfully studied Aragorn's haggard features. "Are you sure you are strong enough for what sounds like a gruelling procedure, my lord?" he enquired.

"I wish to be free of these disfigurements as swiftly as I may," Aragorn replied, thinking especially of the brand on his shoulder and wishing fervently that the Rohirric healer did not need to see it. " I would not have my Queen wedded to a maimed husband!"

"Never have I seen a lady look on her lord more devotedly that the way Queen Arwen regards you," said Aedred with the outspokenness typical of his race. "She would love you still even if you were hideous to behold! My wife would do the same."

Aragorn regarded him for a long moment as if debating whether or not to reprimand him. He merely shook his head slightly and said," You are not the King."

"For which I am thankful!" Aedred retorted.

Just then, a servant entered to inform Aragorn that his bath was ready.

"Do you wish me to accompany you, my lord?" asked Aedred.

"No, thank you, I wish to wait in the bedroom and remain within earshot," Aragorn instructed him. "I will call, should I require assistance."

The King swiftly added the Elven salts to the bath water and allowed them to dissolve. He then undressed and climbed into the bath .He found himself having to struggle to repress the urge to scream when the mixture penetrated his still healing wounds. He found his thoughts constantly returning to the occasions when he had shared a mud bath with Faramir. Had the Steward been in this much pain a few months ago? Was it because of all he had suffered that caused him to side with the rebels?

Or had he been loyal in his heart all the time? His wound meant that Aragorn could postpone deciding whether he should be brought to trial or not over his actions, but he could not delay the decision for more than a few days. Most likely, a trial would find Faramir guilty, even though Aragorn knew he owed his life to him. But, how could he order the execution of one he had loved so dearly? Yet, if he spared him, would he be endangering the safety of his wife and son and encouraging others to break their oaths of fealty as the whim took them?

Despite everything, he found himself missing Faramir's presence, slightly embarrassing though he had found it. When the initial sting sensations had passed, they had both enjoyed the experience of wallowing in the mud together, splashing and teasing each other.

Today, he was heartily thankful when it started to cool, indicating it was time to leave. His branded shoulder had never ceased to throb the whole time he was immersed. Never having treated anything quite like that before, he was unsure what he ought to expect.

He donned his robe and rejoined Aedred, trying to conceal just how nauseous and lightheaded he felt. He sat slowly sipping the ginger tea; he had asked the Healer to mix for him.

Aedred hovered solicitously, not fussing, but rather aiming to distract him with tales of his youth in Rohan. Aragorn remembered the places of which he spoke from the time he had spend there in King Thengel's service. Those had been good days, despite the hardships. Often of late, he had found himself wishing that the Gondorians were more like the open, uncomplicated Rohirrim.

At last, the bath of clean water was ready for him to wash off the mud. He swathed himself in towels before returning to the bedroom. He dreaded having to allow yet another person to see his scarred body. He could only hope that Aedred, as a Healer, was too accustomed to the sight of wounds of all descriptions, to be greatly shocked.

Aedred tried valiantly to conceal his dismay once the wounds were revealed, yet his ruddy features paled visibly. "How could they maim and insult you thus?" he exclaimed, examining the scar left by the brand, obviously aware like Eomer, of the implications of the design.

"It will be gone within three days, together with the other scars," Aragorn replied, applying a generous application of the orange hued rosehip ointment to the scar.

"This treatment must indeed be remarkable!" Aedred exclaimed. "Tarostar told me that Lord Faramir's scars were completely healed. I would never have believed such a thing possible!"

"The Elves have had millennia in which to perfect their healing arts," said Aragorn. "I am fortunate indeed to be able to take advantage of them." He rolled over to allow Aedred to apply the ointment to his back.

"Yet, you have decided against further using your skills here in Gondor," the Healer said, in a tone in which suggested he was troubled by Aragorn's decision.

"I tried to heal my people, but when the soul of Gondor betrayed me, I realised the healing arts were better left to those who do not govern and can better judge the patient's character," Aragorn replied cryptically, his thin body tensing beneath Aedred's hands, as uneasy as Faramir had been beneath his touch but a few hours before.

"As you will, my lord," Aedred said respectfully." I think your Elven treatment is complete now. I would advise you to rest and eat plenty of nourishing food. You have lost a great deal of weight and need to build up your strength. You do not need me to tell you that, though."

"Thank you, Master Aedred. I would be grateful if you would stay until my wife arrives, which I hope will be later today. I, um, feel a trifle light headed." Aragorn could only hope that the Healer would not guess his true reason for desiring his company, was his fear of being alone.

"Gladly, my lord. I will send a message to Tarostar to tell him I will be remaining with you." Aedred's eyes were full of compassion, all too aware that the scars on the King's body would be mirrored by even crueller ones upon his soul. He knew little of Elven treatments, but doubted even the Eldar had any means of healing such wounds.

Aedred then insisted that Aragorn order the servants to bring him a nourishing meal, for it was already well past midday.

Once the King had eaten, he asked the Healer to tell him what had been happening since his disappearance and if the fever had truly abated.

They became so engrossed in their conversation that they scarcely noticed the passing of time until a servant knocked to announce that the Queen and Prince Eldarion, together with the Princess of Ithilien and the Lady Elestelle had returned.

"Ask the Queen to join me here!" Aragorn commanded.

"Would you like me to take the Lady Eowyn to her husband and arrange for him to be transferred to her care?" Aedred enquired.

Aragorn nodded." Thank you, Master Aedred. I have had fires lit in Lord Faramir's apartments in readiness for his return. You have served me well today." He warmly clasped the Healer's hand before he dismissed him.

"Estel!" Arwen had entered with her customary Elven light footedness.

"Beloved, I have missed you! You see my plan has succeeded. You are restored to your rightful place as Queen at my side!" He took her tenderly in his arms.

" All I want is to be at your side as your wife!" Arwen replied holding him close.

During the next three days, Arwen rarely left her husband's side, only briefly taking the air when Eomer came to visit his friend. Aragorn was in considerable pain from his wounds, which smarted and itched after the Elven mud bath.

The Queen applied copious amounts of calendula salve to her husband's hurts and, then with Eldarion in her arms, sang the melodies of her people to soothe both husband and son to restful slumber. She was pleased to note how Aragorn was enjoying his baby son's company, now that he was again secured as heir to the Reunited Kingdom.

Aragorn, however remained melancholy and Arwen knew it was from more than the pain caused by his healing wounds. He did not mention Faramir, but she had enquired about his health and Aragorn' grim visage lightened, when the servant returned with a message that the Steward's health was improving under the care of his wife and the Lady Elbeth. The maid then added, trying to keep a straight face, that the Lady Elbeth hoped that the Lord Strider would soon be well enough for her to visit him.

When he awoke on the third morning, free from pain at last, the Queen could sense his excitement at finally being healed of his scars. As was his custom, he retired

to his dressing room to change out of his night attire. She remained in bed, suckling a somewhat sleepy Eldarion.

"No, it cannot be!" Aragorn's piercing cry of anguish almost caused her lose hold of her child.

TBC

**Due to computer problems the next chapter will be delayed for a few days.I assure my readers, i have not abandoned the story**

A/N

_A very grateful thank you for your much appreciated comments. I have replied to everyone who was logged in. I have now achieved a new record, having exceeded my total for "Burden of Guilt" thanks to your wonderful support. I am touched and honoured by the level of interest in this story._


	61. The wound that will never heal

_These characters all belong to _the_ estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Des Kőnigs Flucht gab kämpfend ich Geleite;  
doch eine Wunde brannt' ihm in der Seite;  
die Wunde ist's, die nie sich schliessen will.**

**(I led the fighting as the King retreated; But a wound was burning in his side; It is the wound which will never heal. ) Parsifal – Wagner **_(A description of the Fisher King's wounding.)_

**_With grateful thanks to Raksha for her help and support._**

**_Dedicated to Julia_**

The cry was followed by what sounded liked a choked sob. Still clutching her, son, Arwen made to get out of bed.

"Is everything well, my lord, my lady?" called one of the guards, stationed outside the door.

"My lady, may I come in?" Idril, Arwen's personal maid, cried out in alarm.

To add to the cacophony, Eldarion, annoyed at the untimely interruption to his breakfast, started to howl dismally.

"Idril, you may enter!" Arwen called to her maid, striving to make herself heard. "Guard, please remain outside."

As soon as the girl entered, Arwen said urgently, "I want you to take Eldarion to his nurse and despatch a messenger to fetch Master Aedred from the Houses of Healing at once!"

"Yes, my lady," Idril said obediently, hurriedly averting her eyes from the Queen's dishevelled appearance and unlaced nightgown. She placed the pitcher of water she had brought for her lady's morning ablutions on the bedside table, trying not to spill it in her haste.

She took the screaming and wriggling Eldarion from his mother and hurried off to fulfil her errands, thankful that the nursery was the next room along the corridor.

Relieved that she was now free and safe in the knowledge, her child would be in good hands for the time being, Arwen hurried to her husband's side.

Aragorn was standing in the centre of his dressing room clad only in his drawers. His discarded nightshirt lay at his feet. His skeletal frame still bore the traces of the orange ointment left over from the Elven treatment, but the scars had faded to near nothingness. All apart from one, that was. The brand stood out starkly on his shoulder, not faded in the least.

"How could he have done this to me?" Aragorn seemed to speak more to himself than his wife." I nurtured a viper in my bosom! He will pay for this dearly!"

" I believe Faramir acted out of love that he might save you," Arwen said gently, taking her husband's hand. " When I searched his thoughts, I perceived nothing but his devotion to you."

"Love!" Aragorn snorted and pulled away from her. "You have been left with a maimed husband loathsome to look upon! Do you know exactly what this brand is? What if it portends that I can give you no more children?" He started to shake uncontrollably, obviously in a state of deep shock.

"We have Eldarion. In my eyes you are still the same man I have loved for many a year now. The scar makes no difference to me. You could never be loathsome in my eyes," Arwen said firmly." I beg you to put such thoughts from your mind."

Aragorn looked around almost wildly. "Where is Eldarion? I heard him crying. He must not see his father thus maimed! No one must see me!" He crossed his arms defensively, attempting to hide the scar from her gaze.

"He is too young even to notice and he is now safely with his nurse," Arwen said calmly." Come!" She took Aragorn's arm; gently prising it away from his body and. noticing with dismay just how cold his flesh was to her touch. Leading him into the main bedroom, she sat him on the bed. Wondering whatever she could do to ease him, she espied the hot water that Idril had brought. Pouring some into a bowl, she took up a cloth and gently cleansed the remains of the orange ointment from her husband's body.

"You should not take on such a humble task, my fair Evenstar!" Aragorn protested, his mind recalling the day he performed a similar office for Faramir. He pushed the image away, refusing to dwell on his own foolishness of loving his treacherous Steward like a son. He started to weep while Arwen gently dried him with a towel. His Queen pulled him close and held him in her arms as tenderly as a babe.

"Easy now, " Arwen soothed, pulling the blankets around them both. " See, your wounds have healed well. The redness will fade within a short time now."

"All save one," Aragorn said sadly. "Why is still here? The Elven bath should have healed it. Is it a judgement for putting too much trust in a man who betrayed me? Or did I trust him too little? No, that cannot be! The look in his eyes when he did it, they were as hard and cold as his father's .It was as if he had no soul. I warned him that such a deed would destroy him, yet still he did it!"

"And I believe it cost him dearly too, " Arwen replied. "If any deserve judgement, it is _I_ for sending a man like Faramir to sacrifice his honour to save you. Never, could I have imagined, though, it would it lead him down so dark a path. It was _I_, who told him he must better learn to dissemble. Yet, I would do it again for the love of you and believe he would too. If any are to be punished, it should be me!"

Aragorn looked at her sharply for a moment, remembering his conversation with Faramir. He then turned away, burying his head against the soft contours of her body."How could I ever harm you, vanimelda? " Aragorn said morosely. "Yet you have been punished by being bound to a maimed husband! The land herself will suffer if her lord be not whole !"

"I count our bond a blessing, not a trial," Arwen replied steadfastly. "And how could a small mark upon your shoulder make you maimed as a man? Now, Faramir has already been punished severely. He has lost the honour and reputation that he held so dear. The people who once acclaimed him as their favourite son, now jeer at him and throw mud. You cannot punish him further! I trust you to do what is right."

"I will think on it," Aragorn replied, refusing to meet her eyes. "I bear no ordinary brand but that of a maimed animal."

"I will send for my brothers, " Arwen said in a more cheerful tone." They will surely be able to heal you. My father trained them in healing arts for centuries and left many books of lore with them. I will write this very morning and despatch a messenger on the swiftest horse in the Royal Stables."

Aragorn managed a weak smile. "It will gladden my heart to the twins," he said.

"I will also send messengers too to discover the whereabouts of Legolas and Gimli and summon them to your side," Arwen continued. "With your friends at your side, your health and spirits will soon be restored." She could only hope her cheerfulness did not sound forced.

Aragorn said nothing but nestled closer in her arms. Arwen continued to hold him, her thoughts straying worriedly to Eldarion's interrupted breakfast. She was certain that she could hear him whimpering still, her keen Elven hearing able to penetrate the several stone walls that separated her from her child.

"Come, don your robe and I will send for some breakfast," the Queen said after a few more moments had elapsed. "I have sent for Master Aedred to tend you."

"There is nothing he can do," Aragorn said bleakly. "My knowledge, and yours too, far exceeds his arts." He looked at his wife as if seeing her for the first time that day. "You should don your robe too, if he is coming."

Arwen realised that her nightgown was unlaced and stained with milk, while her hair was wildly dishevelled. In happier days, her appearance would have quickly caught Aragorn's attention, but at present he seemed less interested in her body than even Eldarion was, her son perceiving her at least, as a source of nourishment. She helped Aragorn don a fur trimmed robe, then slipped on one of her own loose gowns before quickly brushing her hair.

She was only just in time for a tap at the door heralded Aedred's arrival. She then excused herself to go to her son, while the Healer enthused over how well Aragorn's scars at healed. She knew all too well that the one that troubled him most was still there.

Hastening to the nursery she found her son with his harassed nurse, screaming lustily and pushing away the spoon with which she was attempting to feed him some gruel.

Despatching the nurse to prepare Eldarion's bath, she settled on the rocking chair and offered him her breast. Within moments he was suckling contentedly, his earlier tantrums dispelled as swiftly as a cloud across the sun. How she loved her adorable little boy! She caressed the head of dark unruly curls, which reminded her so much of his father's. The child, though, despite his tender age, now seemed to have more vigour and energy than his father.

Once her child's appetite was sated, she started to undress him for his bath, pondering as she did so on her husband's words that his son must never see him without a shirt. A son observed from his father, how he would grow to become a man.

Was their child to be denied the pleasure of swimming with his father, or more importantly learning the Elven massage techniques that her people used as much for bonding as healing? The skills were passed down from mother to daughter and from father to son.

She had become accustomed to her husband's shyness, knowing it stemmed from a fear of being less than perfect in the eyes of the one he so desired, but had expected him to be at least comfortable with Eldarion. In her opinion, humans suffered through the lack of such early closeness as the Eldar enjoyed, Faramir being the obvious example. When she had sifted his thoughts, she had discovered he could not recall a single loving touch from his father.

The Steward's future was another worry. It was just as well that his wound still kept him confined to bed, given the King's current mood. She would send a message to Eowyn advising that Faramir keep to his rooms for several more days yet.

For her own part, she cared only that her husband was at her side and how many scars he did or did not have, mattered not at all. For granted, Elven wounds rarely scarred, but she had met many an Elf in her centuries of life, and not one had won her heart like Estel had.

Eldarion gurgled and smiled at his mother happily, as she tickled his chubby limbs, lightening her mood. She could only hope and pray that her brothers could heal her husband for all their sakes.

Handing the baby back to the nurse to be bathed and dressed for the day, Arwen returned to her husband's side.

To her great relief, Aragorn now appeared calm and composed, albeit somewhat grim and detached. A fresh and pleasant aroma from a bowl of hot water in which athelas had been steeped, permeated the room and Aragorn was sipping a mug of hot tea.

"You cannot beat hot, sweet tea after a shock to the system," Aedred said cheerfully, " My lady, your husband has made a most remarkable recovery from his wounds! I have never seen the like before. The one remaining is likely to pain him, but his body has healed well, I perceive. The athelas seems to help to lighten his spirits, so use that when it is needed." He turned back to Aragorn. "My lord, I advise rest and good food and you will soon be recovered."

"I intend to be well for the trial tomorrow," the King said firmly. "It is time for those who wounded me to receive their just desserts."

_A/N A very grateful thank you to everyone who took the trouble to review the last chapter. Your comments are gratefully appreciated. I have replied to everyone who was logged in._

_I realise this chapter is a little shorter than usual but I wished to update after some computer problems, and it seemed a good point at which to end._


	62. Every guilty deed

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Every guilty deed  
Holds in itself the seed  
Of retribution and undying pain. - ****Henry Wadsworth Longfellow**** (1807–1882) -****The Masque of Pandora. viii.**

_**A very grateful thank you to Raksha for her help with this chapter.**_

The next day, Aragorn, attired in his robes of state, made his way to the Hall of Kings to preside over the trial of the traitors. The Crown of Earnur adorned his head and he bore the sceptre of Annuminas in his hand. The hall was packed to overflowing with spectators and the Guards had had to turn many more away at the doors.

Some, who had not been present at the funeral, wanted to see for themselves if the King truly had returned, others were eager to see justice done on those who had dared harm their lord. Many of the people were merely curious, while a small and apprehensive group, huddled at the back were concerned to see how their accused kinsfolk would fare.

All eyes were upon the King, as he regally processed through the Hall, with Imrahil one pace behind him. Only those who knew Aragorn well would have perceived the slight stiffness with which he moved and the sorrow buried beneath his stern gaze. The King slowly mounted the steps and took his place upon the throne, where he would sit in judgement.

The proceedings were now ready to begin. On either side of him stood masters of lore, well versed in the laws of Gondor. They held scrolls, detailing the charges against the prisoners, as well as the penalties prescribed in the ancient laws of the Realm, for such fell deeds.

A herald blew his trumpet to announce the start of the trial and cried, "Let the prisoners be brought forth!"

The Guards first led out Dervorin, scowling and defiant. The crowd jeered and spat at him. A downcast Fontos, who was taken to a separate part of the Hall, followed him. His distraught wife rushed to his side, holding a wriggling toddler. The guards made to pull her away, but Aragorn gestured for them to desist. He saw no harm in allowing Fontos and his lady a few moments together during the entry of the next batch of prisoners.

Aragorn's men had searched both Dervorin's and Fosco's holdings. The scoundrels who had kidnapped Aragorn had quickly been discovered, working as servants for Dervorin. Faramir's secretary, Delos, still languished in prison awaiting trial together with others known either to have been aware of the conspiracy or to have raised weapons against the King.

Meneldil of Lebennin had taken his own life rather face the charge of high treason and the penalties that would befall him if found guilty.

Aragorn arose and addressed the assembly "Lords, friends, and people of Gondor, we are here today to see justice done upon those accused of high treason. They conspired against the life of mine own person, King Elessar Telcontar and through me, the Realm of Gondor. The traitors are also charged with forging documents, spreading lies and dissent, kidnap and assault."

"Let the first witness be called!" the herald cried. "Fontos of Lossarnach is now called into court!"

A shamefaced Fontos took his place before the assembly. At Aragorn's prompting, he recounted the same story that he had told the King a few days past.As his story progressed, he raised his downcast eyes and looked at Aragorn with admiration at the restrained and lordly manner in which he conducted himself before those who had used him so ill.

Dervorin became increasingly infuriated throughout his narrative and eventually shouted, "Traitor to your House, my curse be upon you! Cursed be the day when I gave my daughter to a turncoat such as you!"

"Silence!" roared Aragorn.

"It was indeed an evil day when I gave you, my alliance, my Lord Dervorin, and forsook that which I owed to my rightful liege lord," Fontos said resolutely, though he blanched at his father in law's curse. "I shall endeavour to die with honour; again a loyal subject of the King." With that, he looked away from Dervorin and continued to give his evidence.

Next to speak was Imrahil, who told of Dervorin's endeavours to stir up trouble in the Council and his attempts to secure a marriage between Prince Eldarion and the child Elbeth, using a marriage certificate now known to be forged by his son in law, to suggest that Lord Boromir had left a legal heir. He then recounted Dervorin's attempts to usurp his authority and seize control of the Council on the day of the funeral.

"What about your nephew?" Why is he not standing beside me?" Dervorin challenged when Imrahil evaded a detailed description of the meetings where Faramir had insulted the King. "Did he not support the raising of his niece to her rightful place? Did he not wear the Ring of Barahir before the full Council? Did he not complain repeatedly about his mistreatment by the King? And did he not agree with my contention that Lord Boromir was murdered? "

Imrahil looked uncomfortable and said nothing.

"Silence, you traitor! "Aragorn roared. "It is you who stand accused here and it is not your place to judge others. Lord Faramir is still recovering from wounds which one of your archers dealt him. All I have to say at this time, in the hearing of you all, is that although, Elbeth is not Lord Boromir's legitimate heir, she is indeed his child, born outside wedlock. She will be placed under the protection of the Crown and become a Lady of rank, as befits the daughter of Denethor's firstborn son.I shall issue a proclamation in due season. Lord Imrahil, I thank you. You may retake your seat."

Aedred was the next to give evidence concerning the many injuries he had seen on the King's body.

Aragorn gazed fixedly ahead during this narration, though he stiffened slightly at the mention of the brand upon his shoulder, describing it as one used exclusively to demonstrate ownership of cattle in the fiefdom of Ringlo Vale. "What manner of fiend could thus brand King Elessar?" said Aedred.

"I branded no one, as only the servants of the Dark Lord would behave thus!" Dervorin said haughtily. "It was Lord Faramir who thus abused the King!"

Aedred blanched at these tidings. A collective gasp echoed around the Hall and the crowd began to chatter excitedly amongst themselves. The King felt a sudden sharp stab of pain in his shoulder and found himself biting his lip. Eomer caught his eye from a seat in the front row,and gave him a sympathetic glance. Aragorn smiled faintly at his friend then forced himself to regain his composure and shouted " Silence, Lord Faramir is not on trial; but rather the prisoner who now stands before you all. Let the prisoner now speak!"

Completely unabashed, Dervorin drew himself up to his full height and drew his sumptuous robes, which as a Lord of the Realm he was entitled to wear, more closely around him. "I do not recognise this Court, nor this man, who calls himself your king," he sneered, "Elessar the Usurper, he is and always will be! Who is he? This supplanter, who would rule over you instead of the House of Hurin that has served this land faithfully for well nigh a thousand years! Where did he come from but some Northern wasteland, claiming to be of the line of Isildur, last of a ragged house long bereft of lordship and honour? The line of Isildur can lay no claim to Gondor as decided by the Steward Pelendur in the days of our longfathers. I could make a better claim to rule Gondor than he did, as the blood of Pelendur runs true in my veins. "

"The Steward of the Realm, the people and the Council, all accepted me as their rightful King," Aragorn said sternly. "Who are you to judge otherwise?"

"Neither Lord Denethor nor Lord Boromir would ever have countenanced your claim," said Dervorin. "Is it not very convenient that Lord Boromir died while in your company? Then what have you done since you seized the throne, save favoured a ragtag of peasantry and bankrupted the Nobility? A pestilence has ravaged the City, a sure sign that your rule is accursed! You did not even take a wife from amongst the ladies of Gondor to give us the hope of an heir from our own people, but instead take to your bed an Elven witch and make her our Queen! "

Aragorn's eyes now blazed with fury and all turned from his searing gaze. "How dare you slander my wife!" he said in an icy tone.

"I borrowed that delightful turn of phase from your Steward," Dervorin said calmly, though he was unable to meet Aragorn's eyes.

"I have heard enough of your insolence," snapped Aragorn. "You will now answer my questions. Who was the man you murdered and had dressed in my clothing?"

"I know only that he was one Malvegil, a merchant from Arnor who came to trade furs in Minas Tirith, but was turned away because of the contagion. I raised no weapon against him, though, that was Fosco's doing, despatching that Northern scum before he and others of his kind could cheat us of our riches and seduce our wives and daughters away from us!"

Aragorn sighed deeply. He now knew all too well who the victim was. His father had been one of his Rangers. Malvegil had been born with impaired hearing, which had made him unfit to become a Ranger like his sire. He was a fine man though, of Numenorean lineage who had become a successful merchant and had been happily married with several children. " He was a man of far greater honour and lineage than you!" the King said sternly. "What became of Anborn and his men? They disappeared on the way to Emyn Arnen."

"I have no idea," purred Dervorin. "Fosco of Lamedon dealt with any threats to our plans here, in the environs of the City. And what became of him? He was murdered most foully and most likely by Lord Faramir with whom he was last seen!"

"Any man in Gondor is at liberty to draw sword in defence against a traitor **- **as you well know!"Aragorn replied. "Do you wish to make any plea or apology before you are sentenced? "

"I regretonly that you still stand in a place to which you have no right!" Dervorin sneered .At this, the guards at a nod from Aragorn, came forward and dragged him back to his place.

Next, the retainers were given their chance to speak, but apart from telling that they had been instructed by their lord to watch the Houses of Healing and seize the King when he was unguarded and looked too weary to resist, they had little to say apart from that they were merely obeying their lord's orders.

Aragorn had heard enough. He was now ready to pronounce sentence.

At his command, a page brought forth a black velvet cushion on which two swords were laid. The naked blades glittered against the dark material. One was an ordinary sword, sharp and ready for battle, and called the Sword of Justice, while the other had a blunt point and was known as the Sword of Mercy. The youth knelt before the King and waited for him to take up one of the blades. If the blunt sword of mercy were selected, the prisoner would be given at least his life. If the sharp sword was chosen, the prisoner was sentenced to die.

TBC

_A/N A very grateful thank you to everyone who has taken the trouble to review. I have replied to everyone who was logged in._

_With Aragorn's wounding, I wish to eventually touch on some wider mythic themes about the traditional belief that the health of the King is linked to that of the land._

_Aragorn has been wounded before but never imprisoned and betrayed by his own people.In our own world we would say he has Post traumatic stress disorder ,which is making him less that completely rational at times,though he has the strength of will to fulfil his duties as king._


	63. Some are born great

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em.**

**William Shakespeare (1564–1616), Twelfth Night, act 2, sc. 5. **

Holding the Sceptre of Annuminas in his left hand, Aragorn grasped the sharp sword of justice in his right and pointed it at Dervorin. "Dervorin son of Turgon, I find you guilty of high treason and sentence you to die a traitor's death at dawn on the morrow. You showed no mercy; neither shall you receive any. Neither have you shown remorse nor contrition, for your most heinous crimes. This Realm has suffered grievously at your hands, thereby you shall suffer the full weight of the law."

Dervorin paled visibly. He knew full well what a traitor's death entailed; the pain and humiliation of being dragged through the streets dressed only in his shirt, hung but taken down while still alive. Then being stripped naked before being castrated and disembowelled, while still breathing before the heart was torn from his body. Even after death, the punishment did not end as his body would most likely be cut into four quarters and displayed throughout the kingdom as a warning to others. Such executions had been commonplace in Denethor's time, but this was the fist time the King had ordered such a penalty.

Aragorn glared at him contemptuously; then turned his attention to those who had kidnapped him. "I sentence you all to be hanged by the neck until you are dead," he said, pointing the sharp blade at them. "You are granted this mercy, since you were acting on the orders of another. However, laying violent hands upon your rightful lord and King cannot be tolerated. You will die on the morrow at dawn."

Fontos, who had stiffened, after hearing his father in law's sentence pronounced, visibly relaxed a little, on hearing the more merciful judgement passed on the kidnappers. When the King turned towards him, he courageously looked him in the eye.

"Fontos, son of Forlong, I now pronounce your doom," Aragorn said sternly. "You conspired against your liege lord; for that the penalty is death. You knew your King's welfare and that of the Realm was in peril, but you summoned no aid; for this the penalty is death. You have surrendered into the custody of your rightful lord and given evidence against your fellow conspirators. However, this does not pardon you, nor extenuate your offences. Yet, when you saw me on the road, you chose to let me pass, knowing that so doing would most likely cost your life. Also, you have shown remorse; for this your life is spared. Nevertheless, you must be punished."

Aragorn replaced the sharp sword on the cushion and took up the blunt one and pointed it at Fontos. " I therefore sentence you to five years of exile in the North, together with your wife. You must depart within seven days from now and are forbidden on pain of death, without express permission of the King, to set foot within the borders of Gondor again, until the years of your exile are spent. Your lands will be held for you until you return. "

At these words, the Guards released the captive.

Fontos fell to his knees his eyes wide with amazement and gratitude. Kneeling at Aragorn's feet, he kissed the King's hand and exclaimed, " My lord, you are most merciful and gracious! I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Use your time in my Northern Kingdom wisely and well, that I may welcome you with joy on your return!" said Aragorn, "I give you this chance to atone for your wrongdoing. You have my blessing that you may succeed and eventually become a son that your late father would have been proud of."

"I will endeavour to restore the honour of my House, which I besmirched so shamefully," Fontos replied. "Long live King Elessar!"

Aragorn again addressed the assembly," You have seen this day, that I will tolerate no treason within my realm," he said. "Justice must be seen to be done. However, I have decided that from now on, executions will take place within the walls of the prison before chosen officials. It is not fitting to turn the implementation of of the law into an entertainment."

The crowd started to grumble and mutter amongst themselves at these words but were soon quelled by a stern look from Aragorn. Taking up the sceptre, he swept from the hall followed by Imrahil and Eomer.

As soon as he was out of sight of the throng, Aragorn faltered visibly. Eomer immediately lent a discreetly supporting arm to his friend.

"You are still not well, you should be resting," the King of Rohan chided gently.

"The people needed to see that they have a King who will mete out stern justice to those who would overthrow him," said Aragorn.

"What of my neph.. um I mean Lord Faramir?" asked Imrahil. "I beg you for the sake of our House not to deal him a traitor's death.

"I shall wait until his wounds are healed before deciding his fate," Aragorn replied."I did once, however, give him my oath he would not die like that and I am a man of my word."

Imrahil heaved an audible sigh of relief. "Thank you, my lord," he said.

"I still have to deal with Faramir's secretary, the Lord of Lamedon's widow and those who bore arms against me at the funeral. The widow, I plan to release to the care of her kin. Her son is innocent of any wrongdoing, having been serving in a campaign against Haradrim border raiders for the last six months. He is only sixteen years old and according to his Captain, who is currently in the City, has never spoken treason or showed anything but loyalty to Gondor and her King. I am minded to let him retain his lands for the sake of his grandsire who followed me on the Paths of the Dead. Ringlo Vale and Lebennin will revert to the crown until I find more worthy lords for them. I also have plans to restructure the Council, but that will take many months to achieve."

"The Council has been unchanged since the days of our longfathers," Imrahil said doubtfully.

"All the more reason then to bring in new blood," said Aragorn. " I plan to include women and those of a more lowly birth who faithfully serve Gondor with their skills. Only those nobles who have remained loyal to me shall keep their places."

"I shall abide by your will, my lord," said Imrahil though he still looked unconvinced.

"You should take food and drink and rest now, my friend," said Eomer when they reached Aragorn's apartments. "The trial has sorely taxed your strength."

"I shall indeed, " Aragorn replied. " First though, I have a task of a more pleasant nature to fulfil. I should never have succeeded in protecting my line and being restored to my rightful place, were it not for the help of Captain Damrod. Therefore,I have asked him to await me so that I may decide on a suitable reward for him."

"I trust you to treat everyone as they deserve, " Imrahil said somewhat cryptically as they parted.

Damrod was waiting as bidden in the Royal Reception Room. He fell to his knees when the King entered.

"Please rise and sit down," Aragorn said, gesturing towards the sumptuous chairs the room was furnished with.

Rather warily, Damrod selected the nearest of the ornate chairs and perched uneasily on the edge.

"You will fall off if you sit like that!" Aragorn cautioned him good-humouredly. "The chair will not bite, though I fear it is far from comfortable. Whoever made it, needed to use less gilding and more padding. How is your sister faring?"

"She is well, thank you, my lord, and happy to reunited with her children," the Captain replied, cautiously leaning back a little.

A servant appeared with cakes and fine wine, which he offered first to the King and then to Damrod, before disappearing as noiselessly as he had come.

"I have sent for you to offer my most grateful thanks to you and your sister for sheltering first my family and then myself." said Aragorn, trying to put the young Captain at his ease. I did not summon the Lady Bereth here for I felt she had been kept too long from her family already."

"It was our honour to serve you and the Queen, sire," said Damrod, colouring slightly at the King's words. He nibbled uneasily at his cake. "When Lord Faramir asked me to care for your Lady and the young prince, together with his family, I thought Bereth's would be the perfect hiding place. I'd do anything for my old Captain, I would, my lord. If I may be so bold as to say so, my lord, it is Captain um lord Faramir that you should than, not I."

"What reward would _you_ like for your service?" Aragorn enquired, ignoring Damrod's last comment. "Ask, and anything that is within in my power to grant you shall be yours!"

"Bereth and I were just happy to be able to help, sire," said Damrod, looking surprised. "We desire no reward. We were only doing our duty."

"You went beyond the call of duty and I insist," Aragorn said firmly.

Damrod thought hard. "Well, if it isn't too much to ask, my sister could do with some help around the farm," he said at last. "It's hard for her a woman on her own with two children not yet old enough to help her much. She will be able to manage things better in two or three years, when the youngsters will be old enough to do more chores."

"I shall order two strong men of your sister's choosing to work for her for the rest of her days," said Aragorn. " Also I will see that she and her children are well provided for so long as they live. Now what would _you_ like as your reward? I warn you that I shall not let you leave until you tell me!" His tone was firm but good-humoured.

Damrod stared at his boots for a long moment then said hesitantly, "I expect this is too much to ask, sire, I've tended my men in the past when they were wounded. I wish I could have helped them more, though. I love my life as a Captain, but I wish I knew how to be a Healer too, but I know it costs a great deal to learn the healing arts."

Aragorn smiled at him." I shall inform Master Tarostar of the Houses of Healing that he is to instruct you there in the healing arts for three days a week," he said. "You can learn how better to aid your men, while continuing to serve as a captain. I also intend to settle a generous annual allowance on you. You and your wife and children shall want for nothing from this day forward."

Damrod impulsively fell to his knees and kissed the King's hand, almost overbalancing a plate of cakes as he did so. "My lord!" he exclaimed, "However can I thank you?"

"By achieving all I believe you to be capable of under Master Tarostar's instruction," Aragorn replied." I have plans for you, Captain Damrod, you were not born great, but you have achieved greatness. Now go and tell your family what I have decreed. You have my blessing." With those words, he kissed Damrod on the brow and raised him to his feet. The young man bowed deeply and left the room, his face wreathed in smiles.

Aragorn then joined Arwen for their midday meal. While they ate, he told her all that had transpired at the trial and what punishments he had decreed for the traitors. She voiced her approval over his clemency towards Fontos, but frowned when she heard of Dervorin's punishment, although she remained silent.

That night, sleep was slow to come to Aragorn; although he was exhausted and knew he must rise early the next day to witness that justice was done. His shoulder throbbed painfully and his spirit was troubled as he tossed restlessly in the vast bed.

Even Eldarion seemed to sense his father's mood as he whimpered fretfully in his cradle.

Eventually, Arwen could endure it no longer. There had been a time when if he were restless, he would sleep in his own room so as not to disturb her, but now he feared to be alone. She lit another candle to add to that kept burning constantly and sat up, looking at her husband with a mixture of sternness and compassion.

"Do not besmirch your own soul, Estel," she said. "You are not of the lesser men such as those who dwell in Harad and Dunland, whose cruel deeds, all free men shudder to hear of!"

"What do you mean?" he asked, though he knew full well.

"You cannot kill the lord of Ringlo Vale in such a brutal fashion," she replied. "Such a deed belongs to the heathen kings of old, not my Estel!"

"He deserves it," Aragorn said grimly. "You saw with your own eyes what he did to me!"

"Indeed he does," said Arwen," I would not trust myself in the same room as he, lest I be tempted to tear him limb from limb with my bare hands! But in ordaining the manner of his death, do not sink to his level, I beg of you! I care nothing for him but I would not have your dreams haunted, by what you plan to do on the morrow."

" I have decreed the executions be in private as not to coarsen my people by such a spectacle." Aragorn reassured her.

"You would still witness it and his screams would ring in your ears while he died in agony. What of his daughter, knowing that her father died in such a manner? She did you no wrong." Arwen replied. "And what of the executioner? Did you not tell me that brute who tortured you had learned is craft thus?"

Aragorn shuddered and covered his face with his hands. Arwen placed a comforting arm around him, holding him close until his trembling stilled.

"Very well," he said, almost too quietly to hear. "He will hang until he is dead and then be buried in a common grave with his henchmen. Do not think I am weak, though, had any other than you asked for this clemency; I would have denied it."

Arwen kissed him tenderly." I asked it you, not for myself," she said." Now sleep, tomorrow will be an ordeal for you, though, you should feel better once it is over."

Aragorn settled back against the pillows, trying to take her advice, but sleep was slow to come. Secretly he was vastly relieved at Arwen's intervention but his hardest decision was still to be made, that of what to do about Faramir.

TBC

_A/N A very grateful thank you to all my readers for your much appreciated comments. I have replied to everyone who was logged in._


	64. Broken is our bond

_These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain._

**Nicht send' ich dich mehr aus Walhall;  
nicht weis' ich dir mehr Helden zur Wal;  
nicht führst du mehr Sieger  
in meinen Saal:  
bei der Götter trautem Mahle  
das Trinkhorn nicht reichst du traulich mir mehr;  
nicht kos' ich dir mehr den kindischen Mund;  
von göttlicher Schar bist du geschieden,  
ausgestoßen aus der Ewigen Stamm;  
gebrochen ist unser Bund;  
aus meinem Angesicht bist du verbannt. Wagner – Die Walküre. Act 3 **

**(No more shall I send you from Valhalla; no more shall you to choose heroes in battle; nor shall you lead the victors to my hall; no more will you hand me my drinking horn at the feasts of the gods; no more shall I kiss your childish mouth; from the Host of the Gods, you are now parted, expelled from the family of the eternals, broken is our bond; you are banned from my sight.**

**Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;  
Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom.  
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,  
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,  
And humbly beg the death upon my knee. – Shakespeare – Richard III. 1.2**

_**With thanks to Raksha her help in writing this chapter and to Laerien for the suggestion, which I used.**_

The next few days proved increasingly gruelling. Aragorn tried and sentenced the remaining, miscreants and unfortunates who had been entangled in the web of treason.The armed retainers of the rebel lords, who had refused to surrender when Aragorn had returned to the City, were sentenced to hang.

Evidence was found that Delos, Faramir's sly secretary, had been in Dervorin's pay and confidence as his spy in Faramir's household. Deloshad covertly read Eowyn's furious letter to her brother, resealed it and then hidden it away, before she could destroy it. Delos, who had quailed under Aragorn's relentless gaze and finally confessed all, revealed that he had thought to spur the Horse-lord to attack Faramir, in an effort to shake the loyalty of both Faramir and Imrahil to the King and weaken his authority if outright war broke out between the two close allies.

The lives of the traitor lords' tenant farmers were spared, as they showed apparently genuine contrition. They were sentenced to life in exile for their part in the rebellion, as were those of Dervorin's servants who knew Aragorn was their lords' captive and concurred in his ill treatment.

The King was determined to show that treason would not be tolerated.

He attended all of the executions together with Eomer, Imrahil, the Captain of the Tower Guard and the Chief Warden of the prison.

Dervorin went screaming to the gallows, convinced from the moment that the sentence was pronounced, that he would die a slow, agonising death from the executioner's knives. Despite the mercy that Arwen had obtained for him, Dervorin's death was far from swift. The hangman was not sympathetic to traitors and took his time.

Despite having seen his tormentors despatched from the face of Arda, Aragorn found neither satisfaction nor peace of mind. With the lesser lords and their pawns sentenced, he could no longer put off deciding his Steward's fate. He had sent Aedred to examine Faramir. After days of interrogating the accused, he felt far from eager to add Faramir to that gallery of faces, some defiant, some enraged, some pleading for mercy, whose fates had hung on the King's judgment. Aedred had found that the Steward's wound was healing well enough for him to leave his sickbed.

Aragorn's nightmares grew worse. Almost every time he closed his eyes, he found himself chained back in Dervorin's dreadful cellar, watching Faramir approach with the hot iron in his hand, pinning him with his narrowed, cold eyes. He would wake trembling, the wound on his shoulder throbbing painfully.

He knew Faramir had undoubtedly saved his life, but the law was clear. To raise a weapon,or otherwise lay unlawful hands upon the King was death. Yet, he had spared Eowyn when she had raised his sword against him. However, Eowyn had struck no blow and a light of madness had been in her eyes at the time.

Faramir's actions had been carried out in cold blood, revealing a side to the Steward that Aragorn had never suspected could exist.

If only he knew whether it had all been an elaborate pretext, as Faramir had claimed, or had his Steward briefly thrown in his lot with the rebels and then thought the better of it, as had Fontos? Arwen and Tarostar had spoken of Faramir's intention to save him by feigning treachery and then freeing him. But Faramir had never, by so much as an unseen wink, or a word when they were alone, given any sign of such a plan. There had been neither sorrow nor kindness nor mercy in the eyes of Denethor's son. In fact there had been very little feeling at all.

He could try to read Faramir's thoughts but it was most unlikely to work. A Thought Bond was only possible between two in complete harmony, when Men rather than Elves were involved. And if he could do it, did he dare to try? What if he found undeniable proof that his Steward were guilty? Despite all that had happened, he still loved Faramir.

Aragorn had toyed briefly with the idea of bringing him to trial, but Dervorin's revelations had made that impossible now for a fair trial to be held. The Lord of Ringlo Vale's evidence had been damming to say the least and Imrahil had refuted none of it that Aragorn had not already known.

Tarostar and Arwen could perhaps speak in his Steward's defence, but he was loath to drag his wife before a Court to give evidence and a trial would imply that he believed Faramir was guilty and forever destroy what was left of the Steward's reputation, whichever way the verdict went.

He could exile Faramir but then what mischief might such a clever man foment away from Aragorn's watchful eyes? A flogging was out of the question as he had sworn never to punish Faramir in that way. Also, it would most likely kill him, as would imprisonment, so soon after Mahrod's assault

It further complicated matters that Faramir was married to the King of Rohan's sister, though Eomer had made it clear he would support whatever decision he reached. He still lingered in Gondor, waiting to see if he would be needed to take on the careof his sister and niece, as well as supporting Aragorn throughout the grim days of the executions. And if Faramir were tried, and more evidence appeared to support his guilt appeared, and Aragorn had to convict him... Aragorn shuddered.

If Faramir were spared, Aragorn feared that the lives of his own wife and child might be imperilled. Yet to slay Faramir would be akin to severing his own right hand. How had it come to this, that he must pass sentence on one he loved as his own son? He could delay no more. Tomorrow, the Kingwould pronounce his Steward's doom.

0000

Faramir received the summons calmly that tomorrow he was to present himself before the King. He told the messenger to inform his lord that he would be there at the appointed hour.

"At last, I will know what will be my punishment," he told Eowyn. "If it goes ill for me, I am glad that your brother is here in the City. He will care for you and our daughter."

"Surely Aragorn will not harm you?" said Eowyn. "He owes you both his life and his throne! Is it not a good sign that that he has not summoned you to a public trial?"

"It is his prerogative to kill me himself in private, should he so wish, to give me a more merciful death given my rank," Faramir replied bleakly. "In the eyes of the law and indeed all of Gondor, I am a traitor. I did deeds that I shudder to recall, in order to save him. Thus doing, I forfeited that which I hold most dear; my honour."

"You are the most honourable man I have ever known!" Eowyn exclaimed. "Aragorn is a fool if he cannot understandthat! He will face my wrath should he dare to lay a finger upon you!"

"Hush, beloved!" said Faramir pulling her close. "He is our liege lord and we must accept his will. From the moment, I accepted the Queen's commission; I knew that I might face a charge of treachery at its end. Though I never thought that her errand could have sent me down such dark paths as I have travelled. But if I had it to all over again, I would take the same road to save Aragorn. He is more than a King to me, he has been friend and father. More than that, he saved my life!"

Eowyn trembled with as much fear as anger. Stroking her hair, Faramir continued: "If I should not return tomorrow, I ask that you see the families of Anborn and his men are provided for, seeing that they most likely died in order to save me. Remember how much I have always loved you and tell our daughter, when she is grown enough to understand."

0000

Despite his calm demeanour, Faramir found sleep came slowly to him that night. He lay quietly as not to disturb Eowyn and wondered what the morrow might bring. Although he did not wish to be parted from his loved ones, life without honour was no life at all. At times he wished fervently for death, though he was determined not to follow his father's example in taking his own life. To saveAragorn, he had fallen into such darkness that he wondered if he could ever truly behold the sun again with his head held high. He felt unclean and no amount of washing seemed to cleanse him of the taint he bore.

If Aragorn were to kill him tomorrow, he hoped only that he might die bravely, his life given in final sacrifice for the King he loved but had been forced to betray.

0000

Faramir arrived promptly at the appointed hour for his meeting with the King. He dressed plainly and bore no weapon or sign of rank. A servant showed him into the Tower Hall, where Aragorn sat regally attired on the high seat, with Anduril lying across his knees and surrounded by the Tower Guards

"You may go," Aragorn said, dismissing the Guards and servants. "I would have speech alone with Lord Faramir."

"But sire," the Captain protested," should we not at least search him for weapons? "

" I bear none," said Faramir, " You have my word."

"Go!" Aragorn thundered in a voice that allowed no argument.

"You sent for me, my lord," Faramir fell to his knees on the steps before the throne and knelt there withhis head bowed, a lonely, desolate figure.

For a fleeting moment, Aragorn was tempted to descend from his throne and clasp his once close friend in his arms, tell him to rise and then sit on the steps beside him. Instead, he simply asked in a voice devoid of emotion, "I trust your wound is healing now?"

"Yes, my lord, it is closing and Master Aedred thinks it will leave but a faint scar."

"Did you know that you have scarred me for life with a brand intended for a bullock? My wound may never heal! What you have done may never be undone."

Aragorn voice changed abruptly and his words made Faramir's blood freeze. What little colour he had drained from his face and he swayed slightly, feeling light-headed.

"My lord, I am so sorry," he whispered, " I wish it had not been necessary."

"Was it truly needed?" Aragorn asked relentlessly. "My Queen ordered you to infiltrate the conspirators, not to join them in torturing me!"

" I did what I must to save you," said Faramir.

"Were there not other ways than by so readily raising your hand against me?" Aragorn demanded. "Once you knew who they were, you could have commanded troops to search for me."

" I feared they would not find you or come too late. They would have seized you before help could have found you. It would have only taken a few seconds to cut your throat, even with my men pounding at the very doors of the dungeon."

"You could have used our bond to guide you, bent the palantir to your will to observe their comings and goings."

"I did not know how, my lord, I could think of no other way." Faramir raised his head and looked at Aragorn, but the King refused tomeet his gaze.

"What then am I to do with you?" Aragorn demanded. "What have you to say in your own defence?"

"What I did can have no defence." Faramir said bleakly, his grey eyes full of pain.

"I cannot allow treason to go unpunished," Aragorn said sternly." You swore oaths of loyalty to me. I should like to trust you but I cannot. There were many opportunities for you reveal your true intentions, if true they were, but you did not. Instead, you left me alone in dark despair."

"I am yours, sire,sworn to you body and soul. Do with me what you will!" Faramir replied resolutely.

"I would be within my rights to kill you where you stand," said Aragorn, suddenly drawing Anduril and levelling it at his Steward.

"Then I bare my breast for your blow!" Faramir's voice betrayed only a sorrowful resignation. He calmly unlaced his tunic and shirt. "I am no coward and would die your loyal subject." He briefly closed his eyes to collect himself, and felt the cold steel of the Flame of the West above his heart.

His eyes full of pain, the King sheathed the sword, trembling at his own weakness.He could not raise his hand against Faramir. Against his will, he was deeply moved by Faramir's complete obedience and acceptance of what he decreed, even death by his hand.

"I have decided to exonerate you," Aragorn said after a long pause, then extended the sheathed blade toward his Steward, hilt first. " I shall issue a proclamation clearing you of treason. You will keep your lands and titles and continue to serve as my Steward."

"My lord, you are most gracious!" A fleeting spark of joy was kindled in Faramir's eyes only to be quenched bythe King's next words.

"However, I think that in future you should spend far more time in Ithilien with your family. You can do most of your work there. I do not expect to see you in Minas Tirith, save only when the Council is in session or at official functions at which you and your lady are expected to attend. I have placed Elbeth under my protection, but if you wish to take her with you, when you depart, I have no objections. Now, go! I dismiss you from my presence!"

The Steward made to kiss Aragorn's hand, but it was not extended to him.

Faramir stumbled from the Hall.He knew he was lucky, so very lucky as any other lord would at the very least exiled him, or more likely had him killed. He had known and accepted that from the moment he had agreed to join the rebels. He was free, and permitted to keep his lands and titles. His wife and daughter were not doomed to spend their days in disgrace dependent on Eomer's charity.

Yet, his heart was broken. No proclamation could restore the honour he had lost or undone the deeds he had done. He had lost the respect and friendship of his beloved King, a prize he held far dearer than lands or titles. No longer, would they work together to rule Gondor in anything save name, no more would they share thoughts, eat and drink together or share long conversations. He had lost a father's lovefor the second time. Aragorn was alive, though and restored to his rightful place. That would have to suffice.

0000

A little later, Aragorn joined his wife in her sitting room. He stood looking out of the window, the lashing rain outside only serving to deepen his despondent mood.

"I have pardoned Faramir," he told his wife in answer to her questioning gaze. "He will keep his lands and titles and I will have it proclaimed that he is not and never has been a traitor."

"You have done the right thing, " Arwen came to stand beside him, Eldarion lying half-asleep in her arms." Had you tried to kill him, I would have thrown myself in front of him rather than permit it!"

"I wish I could share your faith," Aragon said sadly, absently ruffling his son's curls. "I dare not even touch him lest some dark secrets of his heart be revealed. I have banished him from my sight."

"You are both hurting badly. It will take time for you to heal," Arwen said gently, kissing him on the brow.

They stood together looking out at the rain.

"Look," said Arwen, "a rainbow!" She pointed towards the western sky where the clouds were clearing and a perfect rainbow adorned the sky.

"Some of the colours are missing, " Aragorn said bleakly moving away from the window. A sudden throb of pain coursed through his shoulder.

"They are still there, only hidden," the Queen replied, and gently took her husband's hand. "See, the storm has ended. You will soon walk in the sun once more."

**-The End-**

A _sequel that will deal with the tension between King and Steward will begin soon._

_A very big thank you to everyone who has supported this story, especially those of you who have reviewed regularly .I would love to know which chapters were your favourites or liked the least and also to hear from those who have been reading but have not yet commented._

**Especial thanks to Raksha, without whose help; I fear this story would have turned out very badly. She advised me to take it in an entirely different direction and offered unlimited support and advice when I was struggling. Were this story, a baby, Raksha is the midwife who safely delivered it.**

_Also thank you to Julia for her constant support and Laerien for her helpful suggestions._

_I was thinking of the music, which accompanies the quote from "Die Walküre" while writing this chapter. In the opera, a father banishes his beloved daughter._

"_The White Tree" came second in the MPA awards. Thank you to everyone who voted for me._


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